Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) (11 page)

“To a friend of Milo’s,” Zora answered as she pushed Arianna around a corner.  The maidservant wrinkled up her nose in disfavor. 

“You really shouldn’t spend so much time with that old man, Zora.  It isn’t normal.”  Arianna tried to choose her words carefully, so as not to offend the relationship the noble held with the elder man.  Zora recoiled at the comment, a flash of anger illuminating her blue eyes.

“He’s been nothing but good to me,” she growled at Arianna, “and he’s the only family I have.  I won’t have you insult him.  Besides, I’m taking some seeds and plants with me to Montanisto, so I’ll have a little bit of home while I’m there.  Milo’s friend is the only one who has what I need at the moment.”  Zora felt a twinge of guilt about being dishonest with Arianna, but she knew the truth wouldn’t make any sense to her, so Zora avoided it all together.

She grabbed Arianna’s hand, made a slight right turn away from the square, and disappeared into an alleyway hidden behind a small covered wagon.  Zora began trotting through the zigzagged back roads until several minutes later, the two women emerged from the maze where the cobblestone roads ended and gave way to dusty dirt paths.  Arianna looked behind her.  The cloister of Alumhy’s rooftops and the outline of Mizra’s towers had quickly become further and further away as the women encroached on the rolling set of hills in the valley before them.

Zora was unsure how long the two women walked along the winding road.  By now the sun was bright and high in the sky, and the only haze left from the morning was encircling the mountain peaks in the distance.  As they drew nearer to the rolling hillside, Zora could see the pair was approaching a quaint cottage perched on top of a knoll, nestled into the bordering forest that climbed up the foot of the mountains. 

The cottage was wooden frame with a straw thatched roof and a small door set back into the face.  In front of the house a stone well sat low to the ground.  Zora quickened her pace, tackling the increasing incline from the hill they were climbing.  As the cottage was coming closer and closer in her sight, Zora looked up then stopped dead in her tracks, fear freezing her in place. 

A foreigner was skulking around outside the cottage, almost as if he was waiting for the two women to arrive.  He glanced over his shoulder prey like, skimming the valley from his perch in order to be forewarned of any approaching company.  The stranger was shrouded in a dark colored riding jacket, fitted at the arms and torso, and a thick hood covered his face.

   As he crept around the perimeter of the cottage Zora could see a jerkin, fashioned from reptile scales, protecting his entire torso.  Her heartbeat quickened as she observed the hilt of a sword attached to the wearer’s hip.  A gloved hand, protected by a leather gauntlet surmounted by razor sharp blades, purposely hovered near the weapon.  Boots, whose heels and toes were also covered in spikes, protected his feet.

Something isn’t right
, Zora thought in panic. 
He doesn’t look like any Samarian I’ve ever seen before. 
Her memories trickled back to that night in the Forest of Mirth three years ago, and her chest tightened in dread.

How did he know I would be here?
 

As these thoughts passed through Zora’s mind, the stranger stopped his prowling as if he felt Zora’s eyes on him.  He stood up straight and turned gradually in the women’s direction, his armored hand securing on the sword.  In the brightness of day, with the smell of blooming flowers and the rustling of spring wind permeating through the valley, Zora could focus on nothing other than the dark figure against the daylight, his face hidden in the shadow of the hood.

“Ouch!  Zora, you’re hurting me!” Arianna screeched as she jerked her hand out of Zora’s rock-hard grip.  When she sighted the being prowling around the small cottage, Zora had grabbed Arianna and pushed her off the path and into the shade of a willow tree next to it.

“What’s wrong with you?” Arianna demanded, rubbing her crushed hand consolingly.  “Have you gone mad?”  The young noble closed her eyes tight and shook her head. 

“Arianna,” she whispered, “do you see that stranger sneaking around the house?  The one wearing the hood and armed with a sword?”  Arianna peered in the direction of the cottage, placing her hand on her forehead to block out the glare of the early afternoon sun.

“Yes, Zora, I do see someone,” she snapped, irritation rising in her voice.  “It’s Milo.  You did mention he was going to be meeting us here, did you not?” 

Zora’s eyes flew open and her head whipped back around, the thundering heart beat in her chest coming to a halt.  Sure enough, a figure sat on the edge of the stone well, dressed in a plain overcoat, breeches, and leather boots.  His walking stick was propped against his knee, and his arthritic, gnarled hand was on the handle.  The mule he had rode there on was tied to a nearby tree.

No, this doesn’t make any sense,
Zora pleaded inwardly. 
I know I saw someone else there… 

Arianna gave her a nasty look then commenced walking towards the small cottage, leaving Zora frozen in her spot under the tree.  The young noble clinched her fists in frustration.  These paranormal visions were starting invade her everyday life, not only her sleep.

“Zora, hurry up!  This was your idea, remember,” Arianna yelled over her shoulder.  Zora sighed as she began treading up the path, feeling defeated once again by the apparitions that caused her to question her sanity.  Milo had already knocked twice on the wooden door to the cottage when Zora caught up with them.  He looked over at her, his venerable face smiling at her in greeting.  She forced a smile back, still feeling a bit shaken at the phantasmagoric vision she’d seen only moments earlier.

“Milo,” she uttered softly when the two were in close proximity.  His face was close to hers, and she could smell musk and fresh earth coming from his shave oil.  His snow-white hair was recently washed and combed back from his forehead where it usually hung low.

  “Did you see anyone else outside the cottage while you were waiting for us?  Or anything odd at all?”  Milo frowned and shook his head.

“No, my dear.  I was by my lonesome.  Why?  Was there suppose to be someone here?”  Milo’s blue-green eyes studied her furtively.

“No,” she said slowly.  “It’s just us.”

Zora had already forgotten that they were waiting for a response to Milo’s knock and was spooked when the large wooden door creaked open slowly, unassisted, on its hinges.  Zora caught a strong whiff of sage with an undercurrent of spices flow from inside the small dwelling.  All three of them looked at each other anxiously then entered single file into the cottage.  Milo headed the way as the door secured firmly behind them with a dull thud. 

It took a moment before Zora’s eyes adjusted to the dimness of the wooden cottage.  She looked around keenly, taking in the strange surroundings.  To her left, a large fireplace was built into the wall.  Above it was a wooden mantle that displayed a half dozen burning candles with wax crawling down their sides.  At the moment, no flames inhabited the open space, and the only evidence that a fire ever burned there was the cast iron cauldron set in the middle atop lifeless coals.  Next to the hearth stood what looked like an altar, covered in a violet table runner.  A tarnished silver chalice, three opaque glass jars, and a small dagger were all arranged neatly on top of it.  Bronze censers hung from the joists crisscrossing the ceiling, and curls of smoke from their burning incense filled the room.

“Ah, Milo.  I was expecting you a bit earlier today, but better late than never, I suppose.”  A woman had appeared silently next to the three of them.

“Madame Fae,” Milo responded, hobbling over to her with his cane and kissing her on the cheek.  “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”

“Anything for a friend,” she answered sweetly. 

After seeing her, Zora knew instantly why Milo was so fond of Madame Fae.  She was an attractive woman with voluptuous curves and a cherub face framed by hair speckled with grey.  Plaited into her hair where ribbons, bells, and jewels that matched several charms hanging around her neck and circling her wrists.  At first, Madame Fae appeared to be middle-aged in years, but further inspection by Zora revealed timeless, sable eyes and a sagacious intellect.  Madame Fae turned her astute gaze to the two women behind Milo, breezing over Arianna, who appeared obviously uncomfortable by the situation, and lingered on Zora.

“You must be Princess Zora,” she said with a small bow.  “It is an honor to meet you.”

“And you, as well,” Zora replied courteously.

Madame Fae clapped her hands together.  “Well then, enough with introductions. Shall we begin?” 

As if on cue, Milo grabbed Arianna by the elbow and spun her around to exit the small cottage.  He was mumbling something about needing her to help him pick herbs from Madame Fae’s garden.  Zora could hear Arianna protesting all the way down the path from the house as the door shut behind them then locked.

“So, let me see what I am working with,” Madame Fae began once the two of them were alone in the dim, smoke filled room. 

She unexpectedly grabbed both of Zora’s hands in a firm grip and began to methodically massage Zora’s thumb knuckles until the skin was warm and tender.  All the while she stared deeply into Zora’s eyes, never blinking.  The noble couldn’t help but become enchanted by Madame Fae’s unmoving gaze, and she realized she couldn’t avert her locked gaze, even if she tried.  All of a sudden, Zora felt as if a great weight had been lifted off of her shoulders, like her deepest, darkest secrets were no longer her own but displayed for anyone to see.  She felt completely vulnerable. Zora was unable to tell how long this unusual bond with Madame Fae lasted, but the attractive women suddenly gasped and dropped Zora’s hands as if they were covered in leprosy.  A look of astonishment passed over her face, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Well,” she began with a cracked voice, “I believe now I know what I’m working with.” 

Regaining her composure, she began to circle Zora slowly, taking in her entire form in a studious manner as she continued.  “You’re still young, I see, and chaste.  No doubt about that.  Very solemn disposition, reserved as well.  Unusually independent, for a woman, and unyielding.  But bordering on reclusive.  A consequence of your upbringing I presume.”  She stopped in front of Zora again, the bells in her hair jingling after her.   “But you possess a kind and gentle heart, which is rare and precious.  It’s far too guarded though, child.  Are you blocking others out or just keeping yourself in?”

Zora remained silent and stunned, unsure how to respond to the eccentric woman who seemed to understand everything there was about her, even though they’d never met before now. 

Madame Fae continued.  “Your nuptial is drawing near, am I correct?  You look about the mature age.  I can usually see and smell the desire coming off of those who are betrothed, but you, you’re as dry as a fallen tree leaf on an autumn day, pardon my candidness, dear.  Now, let’s see how my talents can be put to use for you.  Elixirs of passion are my forte, and it seems as though you’ll need it…” 

Zora felt herself blush, but fortunately Madame Fae had turned her back to her.  She was rummaging through shelving built into the wall, pulling out vials of vanilla bean extract, lemon grass, and apple seeds, along with a handful of red beryl crystals.  Heading over to the hearth, Madame Fae brought to life the cluster of coals beneath the cast iron cauldron and kneeled down to begin arranging the red stones in a semicircle on the floor below it.

Zora cleared her throat in the silence of the room, trying to gather up the courage to interrupt the woman’s rituals.  “Excuse me, Madame Fae.  While I respect your enthusiasm for love potions so to speak, that’s not the reason I’ve called on you.”

The women stopped in the middle of her prepping and looked at Zora perplexed. “Oh?” she said uncertainly.  “It’s so uncommon for me to receive any un-aphrodisiactic requests.”  

Zora shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I sought you out to see if you can help brew something for me.  With these precise ingredients.”  Zora reached her hand into the pouch on her hip and pulled out a folded piece of parchment.  Madame Fae stood up, took it from her delicately, and examined the elements on it with great interest.

When she didn’t comment, Zora continued, “I haven’t the means to come by some of the constituents myself, but Milo spoke so highly of you and said you may have what I require.”  Madame Fae brought her eyes up from the parchment in her hand and met Zora with a deep, penetrating stare. 

“And what do you plan on doing with this brew when it’s complete?” she demanded harshly.  “Mind altering remedies are not to be discredited.  Men have committed murder whilst on them and woken up the next day without any recollection of it.  I don’t want any play in nefarious acts.” 

Pleadingly, Zora put her hands together in a prayer like fashion and touched her fingertips to her chin.  “I swear to you, my intentions are not malicious, Madame Fae.  I could feel you peering into my inner being moments ago, reading me through my hands.  Is that your gift then?  To evaluate in people what others cannot see at first?  If that is the case, then assist me based only on what you saw in my soul.” 

The decision to help Zora weighed on Madame Fae’s conscience.  Finally, she glanced down at the parchment and then spun around on her heels, walking back over to the altar on the other side of the room.  She tapped three different wooden floor beams in front of the table with the toe of her shoe until a hallow noise arose from a specific one.  She stomped it three more times, each harder than the first, until the floor beam became unlogged from its foundation bringing a cloud of dust with it.  Laying flat on the floor and reaching her hand into the opening, Madame Fae brought forth a large box that lay hidden beneath the floorboards.  She set it upon the altar.