Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) (10 page)

Not unlike Zora, Milo was bewildered as to the enigmatic actions Queen Evangeline was taking to ensure Zora could not rise to power.  The princess was the brightest, most levelheaded student he’d ever taught.  To him it didn’t make any sense why Evangeline was being so evasive with her.  He knew the Sovereign Alliance would allow the succession because Evangeline had no other children, but the Queen seemed to be hiding behind some ancient Samarian law that said the opposite.  For as much as he knew, Zora was the last of the Winnser bloodline, and their reign would die after her.

Milo drew a slow sip from the glass, feeling the warm liquid burn down the back of his throat.  Sighing, he leaned back against the coarse pillows on his bed.  With a destitute exhale, Milo closed his eyes against the world.

“You shouldn’t have mislead her,” a smooth voice uttered softly.  Milo’s eyes popped open in alarm.  He sat upright, forgetting the half full glass of liquor in his hand.  The glass went flying, spilling pungent liquor all over him.  Cursing, Milo’s hand went instinctively to the scimitar hidden underneath his mattress, but he halted when his eyes focused on a humanoid figure leaning insouciantly against the wall facing him.  Half of his body was covered in shadow from the angle of the sun coming through the room’s window.  Milo gave a low, exasperating growl as he removed his hand from his blade, never releasing his gaze from the being in the corner. 

“You could have announced yourself, Sariel,” he snarled.  “It’s quite simple to do really.  We’ve had this conversation before, so don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”  Milo propped his feet up on the bed, crossing one ankle over the other, glaring at the humanoid. 

The being hidden in the shadows stayed silent, but imitated him, crossing his arms in front of his chest and planting a foot knee high against the wall, parallel to the ground. 

“I didn’t come here to spat with you, Warden,” the humanoid answered, his musical voice coming out in velvety tones.  “I came to you during your time of need, as is required of me by the Oath.  Would you like me to remind you of the Oath you took towards me?”

“No, no, no,” Milo said adamantly.  “That is definitely
not
necessary.”

“Good,” Sariel shrugged.  “I know we’ve had
that
conversation before.” 

Milo glared at him.  Seeming satisfied, the humanoid finally detached itself from the wall and walked soundlessly over to Milo, as if his feet never touched the floor.  After so many years, one would assume that Milo would’ve gotten use to the majestic grandeur that one of Sariel’s kind possessed, but he never did.  Every time he was in close proximity of the being, the splendor of him took Milo’s breath away. 

Sariel was about seven feet tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular torso, all of which were carved out of deep black onyx.  His face mimicked that of a human but greatly lacking in detail.  He had the full lips of a human, although his mouth was devoid of teeth.  The outline of his onyx eyes could see more than anyone could understand, although he didn’t have any irises or pupils to prove it; He was a Guardian, an ancient and virtuous protector.

Guardian’s also sported a pair of monstrous, eagle like wings that were nearly double their height when spread.  They were extremely light and airy, with a thicker set of feathers on the inside, closer to his body.  When Sariel’s wings were open, ripples of colors like the chalcedony of a stone glowed from his being.  If one were to stand close enough, they could witness the ever-moving milky white swirls across his body as well.

Sariel stood in in front of Milo, his wings tucked modestly behind his back so they weren’t noticeable except from the side, and his hands were intertwined and resting on his torso.  Now in the path of the sunlight, Sariel’s skin displayed moving shades of ivory whereas before it’d been nothing but deep black.

Milo looked into Sariel’s expressionless face and sighed.  “I’m not misleading her,” he objected.  “When I said that I would never leave her side, I meant it.” 

“But you know that’s not possible,” Sariel contradicted gently.  “You envy those who are going to take your place.  Envy leads to strife and strife leads to death, Warden.  It’s not a good place to be.  Perhaps you should learn to be truthful to yourself?”

Milo jumped off of the bed.  “Sariel, I know the chances are beyond probable, but I’ve spent a lot of time in this country now, and I experienced a lot with this woman.  Just what if, what if it’s possible…”  He stopped ranting and clamped his hand over his mouth, unable to form his thoughts into a question.  Finally, he said, “I sense her, Sariel.  She’s different.”

The Guardian cocked his head to one side, as if the statement had unexpectedly caught him off guard.  He rustled his folded wings behind him, which Milo took as a tell sign of irritation. 

Cooley he replied, “Warden, take care that your perception of this girl does not become your reality.  What you are implying is highly unlikely, and opening up a Commoner to all that exists in this world has detrimental and irrevocable consequences.”

Milo felt his lips tighten into a thin line since he knew there was nothing he could say to win Sariel’s argument.  Instead, he sat back down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. “Why are you really here?” he asked quietly.

              The Guardian didn’t hesitate.  “There’s been changes in Ithillium. I know it, although the scales haven’t reflected anything.  Is your Zone complete?”  Milo nodded.

              “I rode out there less than a week ago and everything was secure.”

              “A week ago?  I highly suggest you make another trip, Warden.  Then send word.  Your Brothers are anxious to hear from you.”

              “If they needed me, they would have contacted me,” Milo answered confidently. 

“I do what I was created to do, Warden, and so I have.  It’s just something I feel, but I strongly urge you to take my advice.  Now, I must be going, but I leave you with this: with regards to the girl, be fair to her.  Avoid pursuing something that’s absent, even if the impression of it is true.”

              With that, Milo watched as Sariel’s form slowly faded out in front of him till he was staring at nothing but a blue patch of sky splotched with clouds outside his small window.

“Always a pleasure, Sariel,” the man whispered sardonically to himself.

              Moments had passed before a faint yet familiar burning sensation on the inside of Milo’s forearm brought him out of his reverie.  Turning his left forearm over, he examined the source of the tingling; the tattoo he’d gotten decades earlier of a rosebud with stems and vines spiraling out in all different directions.  The burning sensation was quickly increasing, like when one side of your body sits next to the fire for too long.  He watched impassively as the vines begin to move and dance across his skin. 

“How did he know?” Milo asked himself.  He did a quick one hundred and eighty degree scan of his room to see if Sariel was still lurking in one of the corners.  He wasn’t.  The dense, black tattoo suddenly turned garnet on top of his suntanned skin, and the center of the rose bud began to disintegrate and pull apart leaving only the vines and stems burning into his arm.  Then, the pieces of the broken up tattoo began to come back together forming words until it faintly read: 

It has been a while since we’ve heard from you, Brother?  How goes it up North?

The words that were glowing like lava on Milo’s arm quickly faded away.  Milo licked his lips, pondering a response that was as honest as he could make it.  He cleared his mind and concentrated on the thoughts he wanted etched into his forearm.  As the thoughts came, the garnet colored scripture appeared reflecting them, then disappeared as the others had.

The Northern Zone is well.  The web is repaired and secured. 

Milo watched calmly as his concise response was replaced by a short set of orders.

I have sent out orders to all of the Wardens.  Recheck the web then abandon your assignment.  You are to report to the bayou as quickly as possible.  Together we will travel home.

Order received.  See you soon, Brother.

Milo looked up, the glare of the words causing semi-permanent spots in his vision. 
Home
, Milo thought with joy, smiling to himself, as if the person on the other end of the conversation could see his nonverbal gestures.  He looked down at the inside of his forearm again, and using his index finger, began to rearrange the contents of his rosebud tattoo till it was back to its original appearance.

Chapter 7

Zora breathed in deeply and grinned to herself as the luscious scents of Alumhy entered her nose, drawing out childhood memories of midsummer’s eve carnivals in the city.  The aromas were a potpourri of icy wind blowing over from the northern tundra, blooming jessamine, sugar glazed pastries, and smoked meats.  Zora had persuaded a reluctant Arianna to accompany her on a trip to Samaria’s capitol one last time before her permanent move to Montanisto. 

It was late in the morning, and the sun was hanging low over the mountain peaks, burning through the rest of dawn’s dense fogs that still settled on the outskirts of town.  Even though all of the land outside of the Anion valley was uninhabitable ice covered rock, the lands embraced by the great mountain range were unaffected by the harsh continuous winters outside.  Arianna always contended that Samaria was protected by some sort of ancient magic spell that kept the fertile valley from turning into a frozen biome.

              “You shouldn’t say things like that, Arianna,” Zora always warned.  “The Samarian Guard won’t hesitate to execute anyone who claims to dabble in sorcery.”

              “But you believe in its existence, don’t you?” Arianna questioned out of pure curiosity.  Without meeting her gaze, Zora responded soundly with, “ Believing in it is one thing, Arianna Fairchild.  But admitting it is something entirely different.”

              The city of Alumhy consisted mostly of two story residences built closely together.  It was common for shopkeepers to utilize the first floor of their establishment as a business or workshop and the upstairs as their domicile.  The alleyways between each set of buildings were quite narrow, the width being equivalent to two adults walking shoulder to shoulder.  The main street, however, was much wider, laid with grey cobblestone, and was usually cluttered with mule drawn wagons transporting lumber, dirt, and vegetables to the marketplace. Samarians milled around, going about their daily business like every other day. 

The past couple of times Zora had visited Alumhy, she’d noticed that the congested traffic along main street had grown significantly thinner, as if the Samarian people didn’t have as many reasons to visit their capitol as they once did.  Shops that had once been open were now occupied by nothing other than cobwebs and dust.  The life of the rich city and the energy of its affluent patrons were somehow missing and had been replaced with something for more inadequate.

              “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Arianna asked as she watched Zora pick through a stack of ripe apples, seeking out the juiciest looking ones.

Alumhy’s Center Market was set up in the enormous city square, and it allowed for peddlers from all over the Realm to come and sell their goods.  Zora could remember when Center Market was so crowded with people that you couldn’t even move.  As she got older, the crowds seemed to grow smaller, and by the time she was a teenager, the presence of foreign traders, musicians, and visitors had almost completely disappeared.  The great rain storms that had plagued the Realm for so many years had washed away many trade routes once used by the treasured merchants, and many countries to the south of Samaria were devastated by natural disasters caused by the storms.

Today in the market’s square, a man playing a pan flute and his partner stringing a lute provided jovial cadences to the bustling passer byers.  All around the two women, merchant tables were set up displaying a myriad of goods underneath bright stripped linen tents.  Arianna stood a couple of steps behind Zora.  A whicker basket was hanging from the inside of her arm and was already full with apples, lettuces, and cabbages. 

“I mean, the Queen’s banquet is this evening, and it’d be quite unbecoming of you to be late to your own celebration,” Arianna lectured. 

Zora continued to ignore her and moved from the displayed fruit to the cinnamon bark, picking one up and bringing it close to her nose to get a whiff of its spicy scent.  The maidservant followed closely behind, continuing her rant. 

“Not only that, but what if one of the Carian visitors out in the city recognizes you.  You don’t want your future husband to know you frequent with the common folk.”

She finished the last part of her sentence in a hushed tone as another patron stepped in between them in order to grab some of the fruit Arianna was blocking.  She eyed the older man suspiciously.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Zora scoffed.

“Still, I won’t have you acting ill-mannered towards the DeVore family and angering your mother, Zora.”

“Why does it matter?  Evangeline has already taken initiative to marry me off and ship me to the Borderlands.  It’s already done, whether I show my face tonight or not.”

The maidservant took a couple paces forward until she was standing directly next to Zora, concern written all over her face.  “I’m just worried about you, that’s all.  Since that night with your mother, you haven’t said anything to me about what’s going on.  I know what you’re going through has got to be unimaginably difficult, and I just want you to know if you need to talk about it…”

“You should know how it feels, Ari, to be shipped away from your home to unfamiliar territory.  You’re coming with me to Montanisto, remember?” 

Zora resumed her browsing to the next vendor who was selling fried croissants drizzled with honey.  Zora ordered two and gave one to Arianna.

“Zora, that’s not the same.  It’s my duty to be where you are.”  Arianna trailed off when she realized her conversation wasn’t going anywhere with the noble.  Zora had closed her eyes and bit into the warm croissant, letting the sugary taste of honey and fresh bread dance on her taste buds.  Arianna sighed in vexation; talking to Zora was like talking to a stone wall.   When Zora opened her eyes, the other woman was still staring at her in frustration. 

With a mouth full of pastry, Zora replied, “Fine, Arianna.  You want to talk about it?  I’ll tell you the same thing I told the Queen.  This isn’t the last time she’s going to see me.  I
will
return and fulfill my rightful duty to rule as a Samarian Queen. I don’t care what I have to do.” 

“I have absolutely NO relationship with my mother.  Therefore, I have no qualms with returning here and taking back what is rightfully mine.  This sidetrack to Montanisto is only temporary, so I’m not going to spend too much time fretting over it.  Samaria is my home, and I will find my way back here.” 

Zora spoke surely and confidently of her intentions.  Behind them, a round of applause erupted from the small group of townspeople who were standing in a semicircle enjoying the bravura from the amateur magicians.  The applause died down as the duo began a new set, this one slower and more melancholy then the previous one.  Zora grabbed Arianna’s hand. 

“C’mon,” she said, “I want to go visit Loral and Jesup while we’re here.”

Loral and Jesup an old married couple that owned the most prestigious gem piece shops in Alumhy.  Jesup was extremely talented at carving and polishing Samarian diamonds and other precious stones, while his wife, Loral, usually made the gold and silver settings for the gems to lay in.  Every year on her name day, the couple sent a unique gem piece to the princess as homage for her birth. 

Their shop was set on the corner of Alumhy’s merchant district, and the location was usually well shopped by wealthy patrons, which was good for business.  Today, the door sat casually propped open to let in the fresh mountain air, and the usually busy street looked completely abandoned of town folk.  Zora had never noticed it before, but the shop’s sign that read ‘LJ’s Gem Pieces’ looked washed of color, and the wood carved letters were in need of repair. 

Zora walked up the four stone steps followed by Arianna.  She heaved a sigh of surprise when she looked inside the tiny shop.  All of Loral and Jesup’s products and personal items had been packed up and placed in wooden crates that were piled high along each wall.  A thick coat of dust and dirt covered the usually pristine floor, and all the tools and machines Jesup used to shape the gem pieces were nowhere to be seen.  Loral must have heard someone enter the shop, because she peaked her head out of the back storage room to investigate who it was.

“Lady Zora!” she cried when she recognized the young woman.  She came outside to meet them, and Zora noticed the kind woman looked a bit older and more weary than usual.

  “You are the last person I was expecting to see today, but please, come in.”  She moved towards her, clasping Zora’s hands gently in greeting and giving her a genuine, but sad smile.  Zora looked around in worry.

“Loral, what happened?  Is everything ok?  Is Jesup well?”  Loral followed Zora’s gaze around the empty shop, clearly embarrassed by her shop’s state of disarray in the presence of the Samarian Princess.  She gulped hard.

“Yes, yes, Jesup is fine,” she stammered, looking hesitant to reveal anything further.  Zora’s questioning gaze was relentless.

“Loral, I’ve known you and Jesup my whole life, and you’ve been running this shop since I can remember.  Your pieces are known across the Realm, and you’re a national treasure, so don’t keep anything from me, please.  What happened?” 

Loral gave in and took a seat on a rickety chair, wiping her face with her dusty apron.  “Lady Zora, I never defame my country, but lately, the amount of gems coming from the mines isn’t nearly as abundant as it use to be.”  She played with her apron ends nervously.

  “We haven’t received a good shipment in almost nine months!  And you know Jesup.  He can make something beautiful from almost anything, but these stones just aren’t the quality they use to be.  I refuse to sell pieces that don’t make Samaria proud, but we just can’t keep up with all the orders coming in.”  Loral looked as though she would burst into tears at any moment.

  “Forgive me, Lady Zora, but I fear there is nothing you can do to fix this problem.  After thirty years, Jesup and I just can’t afford to run the shop anymore.  I truly am sorry.”  She sniffled as tears began to flow.

  “We are going to go live with our son who runs a small blacksmith shop in one of the mountain towns.”  She talked regretfully, as though she was personally responsible for the failure of her business. 

Zora felt angered at the predicament her country was in, for it only hurt kind and good people such as Loral and Jesup.  She wanted to assist them, but she had no idea how, especially now that she was being forced to move to the other side of the Realm.  She was practically helpless.  Zora was a Daughter of the Mountain, and if Evangeline would just keep her here, she was certain she could find a way to help the people of Samaria.

Does the Queen even know what the citizens of Samaria are going through right now?  Does she even care? 
Zora thought as frustration filled her thoughts.

A sudden ray of sunlight came through one of the shop windows and hit a dilapidated wooden crate sitting atop the counter.  The contents of the crate began glittering like crazy, catching Zora’s attention.  The young woman drew down her eyebrows in confusion.

“Loral, what are those shining objects in that crate?” she asked curiously.  The older woman dabbed at her eyes that were swimming with tears.

“Oh, those.  My other son, he’s a miner, brought them here for me.  He claims Talan Leatherby came in one day and assigned him to a team specifically instructed with mining them and nothing else.”

“Do you mind?” Zora asked as she reached into the crate and pulled out the object, turning it over in her hands.  Loral nodded approvingly. 

“I’ve seen these before,” Zora remarked.  She’d seen many Samarian treasures while wandering the caves beneath the mountains.  “I didn’t think they were worth anything.”

“There not, really,” Loral explained.  “It’s azurite crystal to be exact.  Most crystal can be cut, polished, and finished off into jewelry.  We’ve done it before with other kinds, but this…it has been impossible.  Jesup has been trying for a couple of weeks, but the rock is so hard nothing will break it.” 

Zora rummaged through the crate again examining the crystals until she felt something cool and smooth touch her fingertips.  She pulled out the new object and opened it up in her palm.  It was a brooch, simple and elegantly made, with the blue azurite in the center surrounded by yellow gold in folded designs.  It sparkled like a diamond.

“I thought you said this crystal couldn’t be cut?” Zora asked Loral.  The older women leaned back in the chair and shrugged. 

“It can’t.  Jesup had to melt it first then forge it.  The process is way too time consuming and complicated for an item that has no worth in Samaria.  You can have it if it fancies you, Lady Zora.”  Zora closed her fist around it then reached into the pouch on her hip and pulled out a handful of gold coins.

“For the brooch,” she said handing the coins over to Loral.  The old woman smiled gratefully at her.  “I’ll do whatever I can to better our country’s situation.  No matter where I am.  That I promise you.” 

“You’ve always had a good heart, young noble.  Take care now.”

Zora gave her a peck on the cheek before she and Arianna bid their farewell and exited the vacant store.

“Can we go back to Mizra now?” Arianna pleaded when they were back outside.  “We have so much to do before tonight, and we are already behind schedule.”

“I have one more stop to make, Ari.  It’ll be quick.  I promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” she pouted back.  “Where are you dragging me?”