Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) (40 page)

              One man continued moving towards him, the man who’d punched him in the face till he saw spots in his vision.  Brutus suddenly recognized him as Alvard, one of Olger’s leaders.  His armor was dented where the Samarians had fought against him, and he wore an iron helm atop a mass of dark hair.  He eyes were black and sinister, filled with violence for a people who weren’t so different from them.

              “What do you want?” Brutus blurted out before Alvard had a chance to say anything.  The General’s voice sounded broken, even in his own ears.  “If you’re going to kill us, just get it over with.”  Alvard came over till he was standing directly in front of him, and Brutus could see sweat and dirt caked into the creases of his face.

              “I’m not going to kill you, General,” Alvard said in his salient accent.  Anger for the Nomans begin bubble inside of him.  He’d rather die than talk to this lunatic.  “You two are going to be the messengers,” Alvard continued, “and carry some important information from our leader to yours.”

              Brutus spat in Alvard’s face.  “Deliver it yourself, you worthless shmuck,” he growled, which only resulted in another strike to the face.  Pain seared up Brutus’s nasal bone following a disgusting crack that most certainly meant he had a broken nose.  Alvard continued to talk through Brutus’s agony as blood began to drip from his nostrils.

              “This is just a sample, General, of what our Overlord intends to do to this beautiful country, in order to take back what was promised to him by your Queen.  In fact, he’s already starting reclamation.” 

              “What do you mean?” Brutus coughed, trying to wipe the oozing liquid from his face with the edge of his tunic.  It was at this moment the General realized that Alvard had something clutched tightly in his hand.  It hung heavily at his side, was slightly oblong, and wrapped in a coarse burlap sac.  Brutus eyed it suspiciously, and he saw a small, knowing smile creep across Alvard’s face until his top row of teeth were completely revealed.  Alvard tossed the sac at Brutus who tried to catch it, but the object slipped out of his hands as if it was slick with oil.  The sac hit the ground, and the object rolled out of it across the ground, several paces away from him.

              The orange lambency of the fire atop the guard tower was the only light from which Brutus could see, and he had to blink several time to ensure that what he
thought
he saw was actually correct.  Staring back at him from the green grass of the glen was Gerod Kingsley, his eyes agape and glazed over, his skin pallid and drained of blood.  The flesh of his neck was black and rotting where it had been severed from his body, and his dead organs spilled out of the opening. 

One of the Noman soldiers walked over and grabbed the head by its hair and put it back in the bloody sac before forcing it into Brutus’s trembling hands.  The sight of the gory head, the smell of blood and sweat surrounding him, and the noise of the roaring fire behind him made Brutus want to throw up the contents of his stomach.

              “Olger has already taken over Cliff’s Landing, General.  You can tell your Queen that her people there are dead, as well as the entire company of soldiers sent to protect it.  Olger will be in Alumhy by morning.  Maybe that will make her understand that the Overlord was not blowing smoke with his warnings.” 

With that, Alvard stopping talking, turned around, and retreated back to his men as if he’d made himself clear.  They were leaving.  They were going to let him and Lee live.  Alvard didn’t even give a second glance to the wounded or dying Noman soldiers who lay in their own blood on the ground.  To him, their lives weren’t worth attempting to save.  Brutus watched, shaking with emotion, as the remaining Noman soldiers faded into the darkness of the glen and then disappeared into the night.

              Brutus collapsed to his knees, his entire body trembling.  Lee rushed over to him, a piece of cloth now pressed against his head where it was bleeding.  He was saying something to Brutus, but he couldn’t make it out because the world around him was spinning uncontrollably.  Somehow, Lee helped him up, draped his arm over his shoulders, and the two of them began staggering back to Alumhy in the darkness. 

Somewhere along the road they found two of the horses they’d originally prepared to leave the tower.  Brutus was helped onto the horse, which was then tied to Lee’s so it wouldn’t go astray.  Brutus just sat slumped over in his saddle as they rode slowly through the narrow mountain trails, the head of Gerod Kingsley in the blood soaked sac held tightly against him.

Chapter 24

             
“You can go now,” Evangeline said to her maidservant, Ashley, as the young woman finished sewing up a loose end to one of Evangeline’s dresses.  “I’m no longer in need of your services.”  Ashley stopped mid-stitch and looked at the Queen doe-eyed, as if she was being released for poor performance.  Evangeline stood up straighter and glanced down to where Ashley was kneeled on the ground next to her.

              “Leave!” she demanded.  Ashley jumped and dropped her sewing supplies to the floor before rushing out of the Queen’s chamber.  Evangeline examined her appearance in the large mirror propped up against her chamber wall.  She was about to address her country in an open forum manner, the first of its kind since her reign began.  She wanted to look like a powerful, confident, and determined Queen even if at this particular moment she felt the exact opposite. 

              She’d chosen to wear one of Queen Cecelia’s dresses, hoping that it would spark some sort of nostalgia in the people who remembered her mother, and they would only see Samaria for what it use to be and not what it was now.  Her dress was ivory silk and simply cut, with fabric that ran all the way down her arms, puffing out slightly at the shoulder.  The midsection was black velvet, and ran around her like a corset, and the scoop neck and sleeve hems were lined with beautiful designs stitched in black and red threads.  The dress made her look small since it didn’t flare out, but hugged her body instead.  She placed her diamond, sapphire, and topaz crown on her head and patted down her chocolate brown hair that ran the length of her back.

              Despite her elegant appearance as a Samarian Queen and leader of this great country, butterflies filled her stomach, and Evangeline felt more nervous than she’d ever felt in her entire like.  Even if she wasn’t planning on telling the whole truth of the matter to loyal citizens of Samaria, deep down she knew her own pride was to blame for the situation they were it.  But she couldn’t let her country know that.  She’d say or do anything to show them that she could live up to their expectations as King Edgar’s daughter.  A knock at the door caused Evangeline to pull her blue eyes away from the mirror. 

“My Queen, are you ready?” a muffled voice asked.  “It’s nearly time.”  The voice was Vincent’s, and he was here to accompany the Queen to Center Market.  Evangeline sighed but refused look back in the mirror, knowing there was no time to reflect on anything else.  She grabbed her royal Samarian scepter on the way out, feeling the gold rod cool her flushed hands. 

In the vestibule, Vincent paced back and forth, his wrists crossed behind him and resting on his lower back.  His eyes were swollen from fatigue, and his skin was ruddy from sunburn, but his anxiousness told the Queen that Vincent was still alert and ready to move.  He led her out of Mizra in silence, their tandem footsteps the only noise echoing through the stone hallways.  All the occupants of the fortress, save for a few Guards, had been released from their duties for the day and ordered to gather at Center Market, along with the rest of the citizens, for Queen Evangeline’s speech to her people. 

Once they were outside the protective walls of fortress, the scent of Mizra’s gardens surrounded Evangeline as she and Vincent continued on to the gate.  Blooming shrubs of yellow jessamine exploded all around her, and their fragrance reminded Evangeline of Zora, who’d spent her days planting, harvesting, and tending to the beautiful things that grew from the earth.  Evangeline rarely thought about her daughter; there was no reason to mull on things one couldn’t change.  She’d practiced, for a long time, disassociating herself from Zora in order make the loss of her less difficult.  She kept the pang of regret from transforming into sadness by telling herself that the decision to send Zora to Montanisto was carefully thought out, and once the decision was made, it could not be undone.  After all, it was the right thing to do, for everyone.

Evangeline squinted her eyes against the brightness of the sun as the massive iron gate leading into the gardens came into view.  She blinked several times when she thought she saw a group of Samarian Guards, who were mounted on horses, crowded in a circle around something on the ground inside the gate.  Vincent’s eyebrows furrowed heedfully when he also saw this.  He grabbed Evangeline’s arm to slow her pace, but she shook him off.

“My Queen, stay back,” Vincent pleaded.  “Let me go ahead and see what the situation is.  It could be dangerous.” 

“Nonsense.  We are still inside the castle gates,” Evangeline replied as she dug her heels into the soft dirt and increased her pace.  As Evangeline neared, the crowd of Samarian Guards took notice and quickly fell back, saluting their ruler as they formed a line of shinning armor against the black gate.  Revealed before her were Brutus Bludworth and Lee Atwater, both covered in sweat and filth, their armor dented and scratched from recent battle.  Brutus’s entire nose and mouth was encased in dried blood, as was Lee’s hair and forehead.  Evangeline felt fear seize her chest when she caught sight of them.

              “What happened!” she gushed as she gingerly touched her hand to Brutus’s swollen face.  He winced in pain from her light touch, his brown eyes boring into hers and telling the Queen everything she needed to know.              

              “They’ve taken the border, My Queen,” Brutus whispered, his voice as grainy as sand.  “Olger Guttensen had his raiders attack the outpost at Sugarpine Pass and left only Lee and I alive.”  He gulped hard and looked around, unsure if he should say what he wanted to say in front of all the Guards listening in.  Brutus took Evangeline’s hand away from his face and squeezed it hard till pain shot through her arm. 

              “My Queen, they’ve taken over Cliff’s Landing and infiltrated the Northern mountains. They are heading this way as we speak.  Captain Kingsley is dead…along with his entire company.” 

Brutus’s words chilled her to the bone. 
Not now.  I just need a little more time,
the Queen though morosely.

              “He’s bluffing,” Evangeline argued.  She was so close, so close to having her country ready for war.  Vincent had recruited an ample amount of new soldiers, Talan had reengineered his fire powder to be more explosive, and they had a plan that involved intelligence, strategy, and pure brawn that was fail proof.  Brutus’s face had gone ashen, and he gulped hard again.

              “My Queen, it’s true.  Olger’s man, Alvard…he brought me proof of Captain Kingsley’s death…”  It was then that Brutus nodded towards the bloody sack that was the nexus of the men’s conversation before she’d arrived.  It was sitting all by itself on the dirty ground where Brutus had just left it.  Evangeline silenced him right there.  She knew how the Nomans fought; they were a brutal, savage people who took joy in their conquests by violently killing and dismembering those who opposed them.  Her hand still clutched in his, Evangeline pulled Brutus a little further away from the group of Samarian Guards. 

              “General Bludworth, I am truly sorry for what you and Captain Atwater have been through.  As soon as we are finished here, I will send my healers immediately to your chambers to tend to your wounds.  But we mustn’t let anyone know this has occurred.  It is imperative that we present Samaria as a strong, powerful country, and me their confident ruler.  Not as a country that can be so easily attacked by a masochistic tyrant.” 

              Brutus shook his head thinking maybe he had heard the Queen incorrectly.  Was she so arrogant that she’d ignore that fact that hundreds of innocent Samarian’s had just lost their lives, just to save her own face?  Lee was exactly right in what he’d said about her, and suddenly Brutus didn’t care anymore about pleasing Evangeline.  He wasn’t going to fight for her, not if she wouldn’t own up to the consequences of her actions.  But he
was
going to fight for all of the men whose lives were taken and all those who would die in the coming war.  Brutus averted the Queen’s oppressive gaze.  He couldn’t look at her; her very presence made him sick. 

His silence must have been taken as accordance because Evangeline dropped his hand.  “Round up two healers right now!” she called out to one of the Guards waiting by the gate.  “Take these men inside and tend to their wounds.  And you!”  She stopped and pointed at one of the Guards closest to her.  “Remove that item and see it’s taken directly to the undertaker.”  The young man looked repulsively from the Queen to the burlap sac that carried Gerod Kingsley’s decaying remains, but nodded anyway.   “And Vincent!” Evangeline called out again.  “We ride for Center Market.”

***

Evangeline arrived at Center Market several minutes later via her rarely utilized royal carriage, which was surrounded by a dozen Samarian Guards on horseback.  True to his word, Talan had had the laborers erect a large stage for her, fenced off and barricaded from the crowd so that the Queen could safely keep her distance from the swarms of citizens coming to see her speak.  Already the masses were gathering, and the overflows of people spilled out from Center Market into the dirty alleyways and streets that fingered out into the grassy valley.  Evangeline hooked her index finger through the curtain covering her carriage window and peaked out anxiously.  All she could see an endless ocean of nameless people surrounded by monochromatic stone buildings that rose high into the sky.

To the east a summer thunderstorm had quickly formed and was moving into the valley, obscuring the faraway mountain peaks in veils of rain.  Evangeline couldn’t worry about the storm, though.  Even the weather couldn’t postpone what she had to do.  Seconds later, Vincent opened the door to her carriage and thrust his long neck in.

“My Queen, all is ready to go.  I suggest commencing before the rain hits the valley.”

“Has everyone been summoned?” Evangeline asked.

“Aye, “ Vincent replied.  “The Guards have rounded up all those within the city and the city limits, and all the households are confirmed vacant.”

“What about the advisors?  Are all present.”

“There are only two advisors now, My Queen, but yes.  I saw Master Leatherby.  Even General Bludworth insisted on coming, despite his injuries.”  Evangeline nodded.  That didn’t surprise her. 

“It’s time then,” Evangeline muttered to herself, barely hearing it over the deafening sound of her pounding heart.  Outside the air was misty and wet with summer rain, and the Queen was lead up several steps to a large wooden platform.  An army of three hundred Guards stood behind the platform, in formation and at attention, more for her protection, Evangeline convinced herself, than to intimidate the citizens. 

Talan, Vincent, and Brutus stood to the right of the platform.  The buzzing of people talking and moving within the crowd quieted when they saw the Queen ascend the platform, and instantaneously all her subjects went to their knees in a deep bow for their ruling monarch.  Evangeline didn’t miss a step before she began her speech.

“My loyal citizens of Samaria,” the Queen began, using steady breathing to project her voice feminine.  “I’ve gathered you all here today to bring truth and clarity to the trials our beautiful country now faces.  All Samarian citizens know the history of our lands: from the ancient Cliff Dwellers who first dug underneath the Anion Mountains, to the foreign race who rode the sea swells over from unknown lands, attacking our peaceful nation, to the great country we are now.  We all take pride in the fact that our ancestors fought bravely against the oppressive Sea Dwellers and reclaimed Samaria for their own.” 

Evangeline stopped, allowing her recitation of Samaria’s proud history to bring thoughts and feelings of patriotism and unity to all her subjects.

“But alas,” she continued sadly, “not every nation is as great and flourishing as Samaria, and there are those out there who would try and destroy our beautiful motherland.”  Evangeline paused and looked down at her feet, bringing her knuckles to her eyelids as if tears were about to flow freely at any moment.

“The fact of the matter is that the Overlord of Nomanestan has threatened to invade our country out of the evil in his own heart.  Samaria has done nothing to warrant such hatred, I assure you.  We have only ever been a peaceful neighbor.  But this Overlord is greedy and wants to take from us everything we’ve ever worked for!  Our land, our gold, our power, and our freedom!  He will stop at nothing till everything we know and love is taken from us!” 

Outbursts and curses of anger erupted from the crowd before Evangeline could even finish.  She let them yell their contempt and hatred of the Nomans for as long as they wanted, nodding her head in agreement as they did so.

“But I, Evangeline Winnser, Daughter of King Edgar Winnser, your faithful Queen, refuses to let some block-headed bully threaten Samaria!”  Evangeline yelled into the air with as much passion as she could manage, and a huge shout of support exploded from the crowd.

“I will not lie to such faithful citizens as mine,” Evangeline promised in a softer voice, “and I cannot deny that Olger Guttensen’s army is several times larger than ours and more equipped to fight.  I hate to place this burden on an already burdened people, but I need any and all volunteers to go fight!  Who is valiant enough to fight for Samaria?”

Already several young men had broken through the crowds and were pressed up against the wooden barricades.  They waved their arms and cried out, begging Evangeline to let them join her fight so that they could honor their fathers and their families.  Only seconds passed before the Samarian Guard was on them, scooping them up and sending them off to their untimely deaths as inexperienced recruits.