Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) (5 page)

“You have an entire river at your disposal, Queen of the North,” the emissary replied.  “Do you not?” 

Immediately, Evangeline thought of the Argent River and the masses of Olger’s troops that constantly patrolled its banks, and she knew what the emissary was implying.  He wanted her to use the river to transport the azurite.  She stared the emissary square in the eyes and said, “Yes, I do.”  Her reply seemed to pacify him.  “And I request to meet your Master,” Evangeline added.  “I’m entitled to know whom I’m dealing with.”  The emissary paused.

“We are looking into that, but there have been certain complications that prevent his travel,” the man stated.  “You will meet him one day soon, but for now anything you need to tell him goes through me.  Be assured he’ll receive it.” 

The man clasped his hands together with a loud clap.  “Now, I think we have a good understanding as to what needs to happen.  My Master will be pleased to hear that you have accepted his offer and payment.  He will send word when he would like us to meet again.  Agreed?”

With the slightest of touch, he pushed on the solid rock of amber, and it released from the tree trunk effortlessly before hitting the ground and exploding into a cloud of golden dust.  Evangeline purposely waited until the dust settled to the ground before moving, as if walking through a product of sorcery would somehow infect her.  The emissary analyzed her non-reaction with serious interest.

“Most Commoners yell and throw holy curses at us when they accidently witness what we can do,” the emissary explained.  “Not you, though.  Have you seen such acts before?”

Evangeline got a far away look in her eyes as she stared over the snowcapped mountain peaks below them.  “Once,” she answered bitterly, without explaining anymore.  The messenger didn’t push the subject any further.

“I had to hide the gold bars underneath a boulder,” the emissary said over his shoulder as he began his descent.  Evangeline gave him an incredulous look, and the man just shrugged it away.

“I can’t make things appear and disappear from thin air, Evangeline.  What exactly do you think I am?” 

The Queen just sighed, her mind buzzing with worry and her nerves shot wondering what she had gotten herself into, by dealing with both Olger Guttensen and this sorcerous emissary.

***

By the time Queen Evangeline and Vincent reentered the city of Alumhy, the clouds in the sky were illuminated in the pink hues of sunset.  Her Castle Guard met them at the city’s edge where the grassy paths of the valley turned into cobblestone streets.  From there they would accompany the Queen and her companion safely back to Mizra. The citizens of Alumhy were faithful and loyal subjects of the Winnser line, for all the monarchs that came before Evangeline were good and generous to their people.  They respected Evangeline as a ruler but loved her daughter, Zora, for Zora was constantly out in the streets of her city, talking with her people and addressing their concerns with as much compassion as she could.  She was kind and generous, and the people recognized that in her and valued its rarity.

As Evangeline entered Mizra’s gate, a group of administrators led by Ambrose Cornwell came clambering over the wooden bridge that stopped right before it hit the fortress gardens.  Vincent helped her dismount then gave the reigns to the Queen’s stable hand who led the beast inside to the stables on Mizra’s first floor.

“My Queen!” Ambrose called as he skidded to a stop and gave her low a bow.  “Welcome back.  I’m sure you are tired and desire to rest, but…” he paused as he began to sweat, “but visitors arrived early this morning after you’d already departed.  They wish to speak directly with you.”

“Visitors from where?” Evangeline asked in annoyance.  She unclasped the hook of her cloak then shrugged out of it for her servant to take away.

“From Rienne…I mean from Hazlit to be exact.”  Ambrose was blubbering like a fool as he wrung his hands nervously. 

“Well, what do they want?” Evangeline demanded, quickly loosing her patience with the advisor.

“To have an audience with you, My Queen.  They claim that Chancellor Leonardo Santini, my second cousin, sent them with some urgency.”  Evangeline mused over this information briefly, trying to think of any reason the Chancellor of the Sovereign Alliance and monarch of her neighboring country, Rienne, would need to send messengers to her without warning.

“Where are they now?” she asked.

“Waiting in the Great Hall.  We provided them food and drink while they waited for your return.”

“Send them to the council room.  I am weary and don’t appreciate Leonardo sending his people here unannounced.  I’ll deal with them as quickly as possible and then send them on their way.”  Ambrose bowed to her then waddled away like a penguin followed by several administrators.  Evangeline sighed and rubbed her forehead.

Could today get anymore stressful?

***

A short while later, Queen Evangeline was back in her council room, the large oblong table her advisors usually occupied sat completely empty.  She was still wearing her evergreen riding dress with its long sleeves and high collar trimmed in fur, but Evangeline didn’t care.  Her crown graced her thick dark hair, and in her hand was the treasured Winnser scepter.  Those two tokens alone spoke of her Samarian royalty.

The large chamber doors suddenly opened and in strutted Ambrose followed by two of Chancellor Santini’s heralds.  They wore maroon tunics decorated with the Rienne coat of arms that consisted of a bald eagle in flight.  They stopped before the Queen and kneeled gracefully to the floor.  The one who spoke had hair as orange as pumpkin and freckles of the same color dominating his face.

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Queen Evangeline,” the herald said.  “My name is Tanner, herald to Chancellor Santini of the Sovereign Alliance.”

“Short notice?  There was no notice of any kind,” Evangeline replied coolly.  “And I expect you to take that criticism back to your leader.”  The two heralds looked at each other unsurely as if taken back by the Queen’s impoliteness. 

“What is it Leonardo wants from me this time?” she demanded.  Tanner cleared his throat and moved two steps closer to her dais.

“We ask for your benevolence, Queen Evangeline, in a time of great struggle.  Our country is still suffering from the destruction the rainstorms caused our Realm.  The most recent events to plague our lands are massive mudflows from the northern Anion Mountains into the city of Hazlit and the surrounding towns. The debris in the water has mixed in with several of our streams leaving our drinking water unfit to consume.”

“I’ve neither seen nor heard of any such occurrences,” Evangeline interrupted. 

“I doubt you would,” the herald replied respectfully.  “Its destruction is more west than Samarians usually travel.”

“So what is it you want from me?” Evangeline asked again.  Her voice held a hint of annoyance, and she could tell it put the herald on edge.

“Simply water, Queen Evangeline.  Your underground springs run full of fresh water, in addition to the Argent River.  Give us permission to utilize your springs until nature cleanses itself.  We will bring our own labor and supplies, and the Chancellor himself promises no interruption will occur with regards to your mining industry.” 

Evangeline mediated on this for a couple of moments while the heralds stood before her uneasily.  She tapped her heels and thumped her fingers as she weighed their request against her own interests.  Just yesterday, Evangeline had charged Talan Leatherby with the excavation of Samaria’s azurite crystal.  This new job was all she could think about for the last couple of hours.  Too much depended on its success, and she couldn’t chance the Chancellor of Rienne finding out about it.  His presence in her mines was too close for Evangeline’s comfort. 

If the azurite buyer found out she was allowing outsiders into her mine, for any reason, he might decide to revoke his agreement with her.  Those were funds that Samaria needed so she could pay off her debt to Olger.  Besides, the Queen had never respected the Sovereign Alliance.  When she was a child, they were too hasty in denying her right to the throne after her parents died, and she’d held that resentment for them close to her heart ever since.

She looked at the freckled boy before her and stopped tapping her heels.  “No,” she said once her mind was made up.  The herald squinted his eyes as if he didn’t hear what she said.

“Pardon, Queen Evangeline?”

“I said no,” Evangeline repeated.  “I will not provide water.  I will not provide aid.  And I don’t appreciate Leonardo asking me for it when he never did anything to help me.  I’d appreciate it if you told him as much when you recount this message to him.”

The herald had his mouth slightly open, and he shook away his frazzled expression.  Evangeline stared at him icily.  “You have my response.  You may leave now.  The door is right behind you.”  She pointed.

“But Queen Evangeline!  The people in my country are sickened with cholera and dysentery from drinking this water!  They die everyday!  Please have compassion on us!”

“Who are you to speak so generously to me,
boy
?” Evangeline threatened.  “You have my final response, and I suggest you exit this chamber freely while I still give you the chance!”  Vincent had taken a couple of steps away from his place along the wall and was advancing on the heralds, waiting for the Queen’s order to apprehend them.

The shock of Evangeline’s uncompassionate response was written all over the herald’s face, but he clamped his mouth shut, gave her a look of disbelief, then grabbed his fellow traveler by the arm.  They turned to exit the council room and return back to Rienne with Evangeline’s reply.  The Queen knew her actions would anger Leonardo, but in truth she didn’t care.  The plights of Rienne were not her concern, especially when Samaria’s own troubles were so much more concerning.

Chapter 3

Zora Winnser, daughter of Queen Evangeline, sat curled up by a crackling fire in one of Mizra’s numerous libraries.  Her feet were tucked comfortably underneath her, and a shawl was wrapped around her shoulders to ward off the cold of the fortress.  Each of the library’s four walls supported artistically designed bookcases that housed thousands of books on an infinite amount of subjects. 

Because Zora was not born of pure royal blood, Queen Evangeline refused to give her daughter the supportive, nurturing relationship a parent and child should have.  She tried to make up for it, however, by giving Zora the best Samarian education possible. The Queen had tutors brought in from all over the Realm to teach the young woman, ever since she could remember.

              “You may be a bastard, Zora, but you still represent the privileged Winnser name. I won’t have an imbecile for a child.”  That was what the Queen always told her.

Normally, the children of the royal Winnser bloodline would have been well taught in Samarian politics, commerce, and cultural customs, but Zora’s baseborn status kept the Queen from doing such things.  To her, Zora’s existence was an embarrassment.  So instead, Zora read every book she could possibly get her hands on to make up for the priceless experiences she was missing out on as Queen Evangeline’s bastard child. 

              A loud knock at the open, doublewide doorway leading into the library interrupted Zora’s reading.  She jumped slightly then swung her head around to meet the noisy intruder. 

“Milo!” she cried when she sighted her tutor, and friend, waiting in the doorway.  A huge smile unfolded on her young face as she watched the elderly man wobble his way into the library attached to his cane.  He smiled back, small dimples forming on his wrinkled cheeks.  He had a parcel wrapped in brown paper nestled in the crook of his arm.  Zora eyed it curiously as the old man took a seat on the sofa across from her.

              “Taking a break from my lesson plans I see,” he commented, nudging his head towards the book of folklore on her lap.  Zora immediately closed it and put it to the side, feeling a little bit embarrassed for reading something so frivolous under her teacher’s eye.

              “I completed all the readings and figure exercises you assigned me,” Zora replied quickly.  “I assume you’ll want to quiz me on them?”  Surprisingly, Milo shook his head.

              “Not today.  Instead, I picked up something at the market that I think you’ll appreciate.” Milo handed the parcel over to her with another charming smile.  Zora took it from him cautiously, unaccustomed to receiving random gifts of kindness.  As she tore open the thick brown paper, her expression went from surprise to elation.

              “Milo,” she began, eyes wide, “where on earth did you find this?”  Carefully, she ran her fingers over the embossed title of the leather bound tome then opened up the large book, receiving a whiff of dust in return.  The pages were yellowing and in some places torn, but the content was still intact.

              “I bought it from a peddler on his way up from Trisdag,” Milo said.  “He had scores of journals, papers, and encyclopedias with him.  I spent hours rummaging through them all.  Got some good stuff myself!”

Milo was a foreign scholar who’d been hired by Queen Evangeline to come to Samaria and school Zora.  Since the young woman was forbidden to leave her own home country per the Queen’s orders, Milo was one of the only windows she had to the outside world.  He knew more history, fact, and folklore about the lands beyond the Anion Mountains than any other person Zora knew, and for that reason she rarely left his side.  Since the time he appeared in the Samarian capitol of Alumhy and into Zora’s tiny world, the two had been inseparable.  

Milo leaned back into the sofa and watched with loving amusement as Zora examined the contents of the tome with wonder.  After a couple of minutes flipping through the pages, she glanced up at him, excitement swimming in her bright blue eyes.

              “I have to get down there,” she declared.  “This is so exciting that it cannot wait!  Will you come?”  Milo gave the persistent young woman a knowing look then tapped the wooden cane against his lame leg.

              “Don’t think that’s too wise of an idea, my dear, but enjoy it just the same without me.  Be sure to document everything you find.”  Zora nodded eagerly and clutched the tome close to her chest as if it was the most precious thing she owned.  Milo patted her knee affectionately. 

“I only wish I could be of more help to you, but ancient translations is something I’m unfamiliar with.  How about we meet later in the greenhouse, and you can show me everything you’ve found?  We will count that as our lesson for the day.” 

Zora smiled at her friend.  “Milo, you’re the best,” she laughed.  With that, the young woman stood up urgently and began packing a bag with her journal, quill and ink, and a couple of other, smaller books on the subject of botany before whisking out of the library.

***

              Head down and nose in book, Zora sped through Mizra’s expansive corridors passing servants by like a whirlwind.  The polished stone floor eventually became gravel underneath her feet as the corridor walls narrowed and the ceiling lowered; evidence that she was entering the back of the fortress.  Flaming torches set into the wall every couple of yards replaced the natural light let in by the large windows of Mizra’s front corridors.  Eventually, the corridor frame became rough, jagged mountain rock, and the pathways steeply declined until it turned into a set of declivitous stairs that lead to the infamous Samarian mines.

              The castle from which Queen Evangeline Winnser now ruled had once been a great military fortress.  It had been carved into the blue mountain stone of the Anions by the original mountain dwellers, the ancient ancestors of the Samarians.  It was called
Mizra
, the savage tongue for sapphire.  They had built a monstrous half moon moat around Mizra by breaking away the base of the mountain and letting the natural springs below them gush out to fill the open space.  In return, the springs from which the moat was replenished also served as Mizra’s personal reservoir, as well as a defense mechanism against invaders. 

As she turned the last sharp corner of a corridor, Zora almost ran head first into Arvil Pennington, one of the Queen’s advisors.  The small man gave a high-pitched shriek of surprise at the sight of Zora lurking in the dark and deserted part of the fortress.

              “Blast!  Lady Zora!” he cried, placing his hand on his chest as if he was having a heart attack.  “What are you doing in these parts of Mizra?  And where is your chaperon?”

Arvil looked down at her reproachfully from the end of a long nose stuck between hollow cheeks.  Zora shifted the heavy tome from one arm to the other catching Arvil’s attention.

              “Nothing,” Zora replied shortly.  “I’m doing nothing.  Just lesson work for Milo is all.  And I
don’t
concede to chaperons.”  He eyed her suspiciously, so she quickly changed the subject. 

“Have you received any word from the Queen?  Do you know when she’ll be returning to Mizra?”  Zora hoped she could extract some information from Arvil about the Queen’s dealings and whereabouts. All she knew was that her mother left a week ago on urgent business to Nomanestan to meet with the Overlord there.  For what reasons, Zora couldn’t fathom.  She watched as Arvil’s eyes moved from the tome to her questioning face, clearly unconcerned with the subject listed on the outside of the large book.

              “She returned two days ago, Lady Zora,” Arvil answered.  “But the first day she was conducting meetings well into the night.  And then yesterday, she had to leave Alumhy for the day.  Still, I suppose someone should have told you.” 

Zora looked down at her feet.  “Have you any idea if she wants me to call?”

“She asked not to be disturbed, as usual,” Arvil replied.  “If you need to relay a message to her I suggest getting ahold of Ashley.  She can take care of it from there.”  He cleared his throat uncomfortably.  No one on Mizra’s staff liked getting involved in the Queen’s strained relationship with her daughter.

              “Do you know how long she will be home for?” Zora questioned him again.  If her mother refused to communicate her comings and goings to her daughter, Zora would force the information from one of her advisors instead.

              Arvil looked like he wanted to tell her something, but refrained from doing so.  Instead he said,  “On the other hand, maybe it is better if you wait for the Queen to contact you for an audience, instead of bothering her ahead of time.  Now, I must be off.  But just a word of advice: I wouldn’t make myself too visible while creeping around the deserted parts of Mizra, regardless of the reason.”  He tapped her book.  “You really should learn not to wander.  Good day.”  He gave her a slight bow before continuing on his way.  He paused for a moment and turned back towards her.

              “I’d be careful down there.  I was just checking in with Master Leatherby, and his team is planning on detonating today.  I don’t want to be responsible for having to pull you out of a pile of mountain rock.” 

             
Detonating?
Zora thought.  She didn’t know what that was.  Regardless, she was sure Arvil was only saying this because he felt sorry for highlighting the nearly nonexistent relationship Zora had with her mother, but she appreciated the warning all the same.  She watched as Arvil’s robes faded into the darkness of the corridors as he walked away.

              Zora gave a deep sigh, trying to push away the hurt feelings surrounding her mother’s lack of interest in her. 
Been home for two days and not a word sent to your daughter,
Zora thought bitterly. 
But what’s new?
 

After several more minutes, Zora came to the end of the long corridor.  She looked up to see bits of sunlight filtering in from the opening of an old cylindrical mine shaft that ran hundreds of feet above her.  She was beneath Mizra now, and the darkness of the underground caves before her seemed to swallow up the meager light of the torches still lighting her path.  A small supply station was set up here for miners who might be entering the caverns from Mizra, which was fairly unusual, but the supply station was still stocked.  Zora had left some of her own belongings here including traveling boots and a cloak.  She changed into them then grabbed a lantern, extra oil in a skin, and matches.  She lit the lantern and held it up in front of her to illuminate the steep downward staircase that lead into the mines.

The country of Samaria lay burrowed in the largest valley of the Anion Mountain range.  The caverns underneath the mountains ran deep and long, and a large portion of them had been opened up, carved out, and reengineered until they became a massive underground network of navigable mines.  Other, more remote caves still remained unmolested by human hands, and today that was where Zora was heading. 

As a Daughter of the Mountain, she knew how to traverse the geology of the caves better than any miner and had been doing so since she was a child.  She could determine the direction she was traveling by the diverging gradient of the earth, ascertain her elevation by the feel of the air on her skin, and know how far she was from Mizra by the sound of rushing water through the underground springs.

It was exploring these mines as a child that Zora first came across the fascinating cave paintings and corresponding runes that decorated the jagged blue stone. Since her discovery of these cave drawings, Zora had been obsessed with deciphering and translating the ancient runes of the dead Samarian language that accompanied the beautiful paintings.  It was a meticulous and assiduous process since the original Samarian language and alphabet were no longer learned or used. The subject of the tome Milo gifted her with was ancient languages, with a concentration of those used in the north.  It had relevant information on the definitions of several runes and what symbols represented an alphabet, sounds, or ideas.  To Zora, the gift of the tome was priceless.

After hours of hiking, Zora finally came across the cavern that marked the halfway point of her journey for that day.  The air in the mines always blew ice cold, and it prickled Zora’s skin like needles as she took a seat on the floor between two conical stalagmites that nearly reached the low cavern ceiling.  She’d recently discovered this new cave with never before seen paintings, and it was a little ways off of the main passages the miners used for travel.  Zora had been going there each day for weeks, and each time she went further and further into the narrow passages of rock, adding their direction and shape to the maps she’d created in her mind.

  As she sat replicating the paintings and copying the runes, constant drips of water peppered the floor where small pools of liquid had formed and grown larger over the years.  While some parts of the caves were easy to walk through, other paths were barred by treacherous rock formations and hanging dripstone as sharp as a knife.  Although the space inside the cave was wide across, the darkness was so heavy, that without the meager light of the lantern, Zora would have been rendered completely blind.

It was by flame light that Zora drew the strange cave runes in her journal for later comparison to what was in the tome.  In this cave she’d found a painting that illustrated her ancestors hunting gazelles along the banks of the Argent River.  It was basic artwork full of straight lines and little color, but Zora was more concerned about the language that went along with the story.  She knew her hard work was paying off since she was now able to recognize the symbols that represented certain words like snow, water, and fire.  She was now moving onto compiling the symbols that represented sounds so that she could read full sentences of ancient communication.