Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) Page 2
“Zora,” he said, his voice as smooth and silky as the woman’s had been. The streaks of gray in his jet-black hair were shimmering in some unknown light. He was a middle-aged man, a man who most women would consider mysteriously handsome, dressed entirely in dark coal with his pants turned down at the top of black leather boots. Scarlet lace crowded his neck and graced his masculine hands that ended with long nails painted the color of blood. He took one step towards her. She took two steps back.
“What’d you do with that woman?” Zora blurted out. The man narrowed his eyes at her and smirked again, as if he knew something she did not.
“Zora,” he answered calmly. “I am her. Did you honestly think I could lure you out here all by myself?” Zora shook her head back and forth in confusion. The man’s eyes seemed to glow brighter in the dim light.
“How long have you been watching me?” she stammered. The man appeared perplexed by the question.
“Watching you?” The man’s eyes ran along her like she was a piece of meat. “Since the moment you were born,” he whispered, tracing the outline of her tense body in the air with his fingernail. He smiled again.
“And all I have to do is touch you.” The young girl cowered under his intent gaze.
“Please…” she mumbled. His eyes never moved from her. He stared at her with eyes full of want. He desired something from her, some sort of power she possessed, though Zora could not understand or explain what. Suddenly the man leapt at her. She tried to run, but he pounced on her, tackling her to the ground and knocking the breath from her chest. With that he was able to pull her under his muscular form and flip her over onto her back. The man grabbed Zora’s wrists and pinned them on top of her head as she lie kicking and screeching on the brown stone floor.
“Let…go!” she squealed, panic now in full force.
“Do you know what you are?” he hissed in her ear. Zora squirmed under his hold and screamed for him to stop. Ignoring her pleas, the man pulled up the bottom hem of her nightdress while her legging-covered legs kicked uselessly underneath him. When her bare abdomen was exposed, the man laughed with twisted glee.
“You’re mine now,” he whispered in her ear.
With that he pressed his hand unto her flesh, leaving a burning scar in its wake. Fire seared through Zora’s stomach as she screamed, consuming her being from the tips of her toes into the depths of her spirit. She looked down in horror as the portion of her nightdress where he’d placed his hand was now singed as if touched by fire. Marking her ivory skin was the outline of a handprint dipped in blood. Her muscles began to tremor, weak and immobile, and again she screamed in pain until her voice was all gone. She listened as a menacing laugh enveloped her mind and then her distorted vision turned into blackness.
Part I
“In the beginning, the earth was without form and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of Creator moved upon the face of the waters.”
I Codex
Book 1
Chapter 1
Line 1
Chapter 1
Alumhy, Samaria
Three years later
The advisors to Evangeline Winnser, Queen of Samaria, sat around a large council table decorated with fine food dishes that none of the men were interested in sampling. This prestigious group of advisors met weekly with Queen Evangeline to communicate any issues arising in their fields of expertise that the Queen needed to be informed about. Evangeline was a very involved and thorough Queen with regards to the reputation of her country, and she kept tight ropes on all of her advisors so that nothing would go unnoticed.
Today, the friendly business-like atmosphere that usually occupied the legislative quarters was replaced by one of tension so thick, it could be seen by the naked eye. Evangeline sat perched on the dais facing her four advisors, her gorgeous silk gown overflowing the throne and running like a waterfall down the few steps before her. A magnificent crown embellished with sapphires, topaz, and diamonds adorned her head making the Queen appear overly dressed for the occasion. Underneath the crown, a smooth, slightly aged face remained motionless while she listened intently and without interjection as her advisors conversed amongst each other.
“Are you positive other extractable veins haven’t been overlooked in this particular mine?” Arvil Pennington asked in an accusatory tone. “Doesn’t your team prospect for several years before deciding where to dig in order to alleviate any room for error? No one else has the authority to begin excavation besides you!”
Arvil Pennington, Samaria’s Master of Commerce, sat directly across from Talan Leatherby who was in charge of overseeing Samaria’s entire mining industry. Whether it was mining gems, metals, or minerals, this industry alone provided Samaria with the majority of her revenue. Hence, any disruption of the mine’s productivity induced anger in Arvil Pennington who oversaw Samaria’s economic health. Today, Talan Leatherby just glared resentfully at the small man across from him, as Arvil’s voice had taken on an incriminating tone.
“These reckless and poor decisions have set our trade back at least a year now,” Arvil continued in a shrill voice, “and will no doubt have irrevocable consequences on our fiscal integrity in the long run. Which, mind you, is already unstable enough!”
Arvil’s upturned nose only caused Talan’s dislike for the mousy man to boil harder inside of him. But he kept his demeanor calm and steady as he defended himself against Arvil’s accusations.
“The current underground mines aren’t completely barren, Arvil. It’s still rich with iron and copper deposits. Unfortunately, my team miscalculated the locations of the richer areas in the north when prospecting over there last spring. The surface mining proved successful with this one mine, as you all are aware. We excavated an unusual volume of stones and metals when the ice began to melt, but when we began to mine into the mountain after the surface was depleted, we found nothing but mineral deposits. You all must understand that anytime the surface is rich, the mountain rock holds ten times as much in the veins. I didn’t see any reason this one should prove different, so I refocused all the labor into harvesting this one mine instead of having them look for newer, future locations.” Talan looked optimistically at the other three men sitting around him, hoping his brief explanation would bring some understanding to their current situation.
Ambrose Cornwell, the Master of State, who had been silently stroking the gray ends of his moustache piped in. “What about the other hundreds of abandoned mines, Talan. Surely we can reopen them and continue digging. We’ve done that in the past and uncovered new deposits. What’s stopping us from continuing?” Talan was already shaking his head.
“We dug as far as we could with those mines, Ambrose. Remember how far the reservoir stretches? It’s pointless. There is nothing but water. I’m afraid at this very moment we are out of options, just until my team can scout other areas and begin digging.” He paused as a look of shame passed over his handsome features. “And that can take years.”
“Gentlemen, we are not entirely destitute,” a deep voice boomed. Brutus Bludworth, General of the Samarian Guard, stood up to speak. His muscular frame cast a monstrous shadow across the table. “Our land is still rich with iron and copper, according to Talan. So why can’t we increase our volume of those exports? I know that precious metals and gem stones is where our wealth lies, but until we figure something out, we will have to focus on mining and trading our other commodities in order to keep our heads afloat.” Brutus sat back down seeming pleased with the solution he provided. Behind him, a squeaky snicker escaped Arvil’s protruding mouth.
“We don’t export that ore, Brutus. Not for a long time now. We barter it, and only with Rienne, mostly for textiles. You see, Brighton and Rienne have slowly begun exporting iron and copper over the last decade, and I’m afraid we’ve let them saturate the demand for it. At this point we may as well give it away for as little as it’s worth.”
“Arvil, how full are the reserves?” Ambrose asked unsurely.
“Weak,” he answered with a sidelong glance at Talan. “We’ve had to dip into them over the last decade and less was coming in as replenishment.”
Queen Evangeline listened silently yet intensely to the conversation that was going on between four of her most trusted advisors. Purposely, she subdued her own authoritative presence so as to allow the illusion that the men sitting around the council table were the ones ultimately deciding the fate of her country. She watched their confident political faces break down in worry as Talan revealed the true condition of Samaria’s economic powerhouse. A pang of guilt pecked at her conscience when she witnessed this. She understood that the advisor’s true feelings of helplessness were caused covertly by her own design.
As they deliberated amongst themselves, Evangeline rose soundlessly from her post on the dais and walked unnoticed down the stairs in front of her. In her slender hand she grasped the ancient Winnser scepter, fashioned from a gold alloy and topped off with a large Samarian diamond. She used it to steady her graceful movements as she arrived in front of the table to address her men.
“My trusted advisors,” she interrupted, her cool voice breaking through the din in the room. “I believe I’ll take my turn to speak.” Her advisors immediately stopped their nattering and turned their surprised faces towards the Queen. “I feel as though I’ve been slightly dishonest with all of you, “ she began contritely, meeting each man’s gaze one by one. “And that seems unfair, considering your loyalty to me. Therefore, let me provide you all with some clarification.” She went and stood behind Talan, who watched her nervously, and placed her free hand on his shoulder.
“The current failures of the mines is not of Talan’s doing, so I forbid anymore unsubstantiated accusations towards him.” She looked right at Arvil as she said this, and his pouting mouth protruded out a bit further.
“Let us not pretend, my dear advisors, that we’ve been oblivious as to what’s been going on over the last couple of decades. The mines are dying. The mountains are dying. This is happening whether we want to acknowledge it or not, and it’s forcing us to dig deeper into the rock with minimal results.” She removed her hand from Talan’s shoulder and began strolling about the room as she spoke. The elegant scepter knocked the floor with every step.
“I remember when I was just a child, my father, King Edgar, talked about the dreary future of Samaria if our mining industry were to collapse. And even at such an impressionable age, I understood the seriousness of the situation. Since my coronation, I vowed to myself that I would do everything possible to prevent such a collapse. I hold myself to that promise everyday. Years ago when the violent rainstorms came upon our Realm, I feared that our country would not survive because of the damage to the trade routes from the flash flooding. While our country holds a lot of wealth compared to our neighbors, truthfully it’s worthless if we have no one to trade with.”
“My ancestors were foolish in putting so much emphasis on teaching our citizens the crafts of mining, gemology, and metal working, and ignoring the basics of living off the land. Over the last century the skill of agriculture has slowly diminished among our people. As we all know, the unfortunate time of unrelenting rainstorms came unexpectedly. The first three months of storms ravished our lands and pushed the Argent River to flood the valley. This destroyed the little bit of crops we harvest and washed away all the fertile topsoil. The food reserves I usually bank throughout the harvest season were no match to the amount of damage these storms were having on Samarian trade and farming. The crops were used up as soon as I began distributing them to the people in need.”
“In order for the Samarian people to keep from starving to death when the rains did not subside, I saw no other option but to enter into a contractual agreement with Olger Guttensen to supply us with a steady amount of food to last us through these challenging times. His land did not take as heavy a toll as ours did.” Evangeline paused as her confession sunk in, waiting for any type of reaction from the advisors.
Ambrose Cornwell shot up suddenly from his seat, his eyebrows reaching high into his grey hairline in disbelief. “Pardon, My Queen? Did I hear correctly? Olger Guttensen? Are you referring to the Overlord of Nomanestan?”
Evangeline gave him an affirmative nod. “I am, Master Cornwell. His territory is great and the soil rich. He has been faithful in fulfilling his part of the contract over the last three years.” As she said this, a sleek sheen of sweat formed on Ambrose’s forehead, glistening like oil. Hastily, the man unbuttoned the top two buttons of his overcoat and began fanning his sagging face with both hands.
“But My Queen,” he gasped. “Olger Guttensen is a tyrant! And his people an enemy of our own for centuries. His soldiers are relentless in butchering anyone who seeks passage through the Argent Canyon even though Olger has no authority to control it. Not to mention the raids on our herding communities that leave nothing behind but dead Samarians. For the sake of Dear King Edgar and Queen Cecelia, please withdraw from this agreement. There is no negotiating with tyrants!”
Ambrose sat down, flustered, and began fiddling in his pocket for a kerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow. A look of sheer terror came over all the men when she confessed her alliance with Olger, but none were so brave to challenge her supremacy. Brutus Bludworth was the second one to say something.
“Ambrose’s concern is legitimate, My Queen,” he said slowly and quietly. “Every Samarian citizen knows the history of war, terror, and pillaging Olger’s kinsman have brought on our lands over the past centuries. Our native population was nearly destroyed due to the Sea-Dwellers’ acts of massacre. And for what, My Queen? Land? Control? I know personally what they are capable of, even now. They are a violent people, incapable of change. With one hand Olger Guttensen will gain our trust and with the other he will drive a knife through the heart of our country. He’s not one to negotiate with!”
Evangeline regarded her advisors’ concerns with surprising patience and open mindedness. “Gentlemen, my father spent the majority of his reign making peace with the Noman people. To bring unity to the North was one of the goals he wished to accomplish, and the results of these efforts are apparent. The incidences of violent attacks on our outposts and along the perimeter have ceased. The Nomans are an evolving culture, and we have lived side by side with them for half and millennium. Isn’t it time we extend a hand of peace?”
“I know Olger’s people, My Queen,” Brutus interrupted, this time a bit more forcibly. His calloused hands had clenched into fists on the table. “I have been fighting them since I was just a lad in the Guard. Every intelligent soldier knows you need to learn about your enemy in order to defeat them. The Noman people don’t help others from the charity of their hearts; there is always a greater agenda that will ultimately benefit them. Therefore, My Queen, I’m inclined to ask, what exactly were the terms of your agreement with Olger Guttensen?”
The room had gone deadly silent. All the men watched for the Queen’s reaction to such a heavily laden question that might indicate she’d made some sort of mistake in partnering with the savage Overlord. Her full, red lips only tightened into a humorless smile as she surveyed the room.
“It’s quite simple, really. I promised him wealth, pure Samarian gold. It’s what he wants. But considering our current state of impoverishment for such items, I also pledged him the rights to Samarian land; complete control of the Argent Canyon west up until Sugarpine Pass. As collateral.”
Arvil, who usually looked arrogant and smug, had an expression of disbelief scattered across his face. “My Queen, when does payment come due?” he asked.
“By Summer’s Solstice,” she answered. “Therefore, gentlemen, if in two months time you do not want the so-called savage people of Nomanestan laying claim to our sacred country, I suggest you produce some results with these mines of ours.”
She pointed a finger at Talan. “There are hidden gems underneath these mountains, Master Leatherby, and you are not going to stop until they
are found. Do you understand?”
Talan just gaped at her, unable to find his tongue. “But there is nothing out there, My Queen!” he stammered.
“Then I suggest you find somewhere else to dig!” she roared, her eyes suddenly illuminated with rage. Evangeline turned around and stomped back to her dais, as if their sudden presence was annoying her. Her constant mood changes went up and down like the sun and always left her advisors flustered.
“Leave me, all of you,” she commanded with a wave of her hand. “I have said all I needed to, and I think we understand what needs to happen. We will reconvene in two days time, and I expect a resolution to be reached.”
All four men glanced nervously at each other then hurriedly rose and stumbled out of the room, not glancing back at the Queen who sat fuming on her throne.
***
Major Vincent Lowe, the Queen’s personal Guard, walked briskly through the cold halls of the fortress Mizra. In the pocket of his riding jacket was a leather cylindrical case containing a confidential message addressed to Queen Evangeline. She had sent him out early that day to the perimeter of Samaria, past the outpost towers, to meet an anonymous emissary that the Queen said could be spotted by his unusual soldier uniform. The man was waiting for Vincent on horseback, garbed in riding gear with a bow and quiver of arrows strapped across his back. He handed the message over without reluctance saying only that the Queen would most likely want to meet with him after reading what was inside.
“I will make camp a little further inward where the forest makes better cover. If you need me, that’s where I’ll be, until tomorrow at sunset,” the stranger explained. The Queen’s personal Guard only nodded at this and tucked the leather cylinder into the inner pocket of his jacket before turning around and retreating back to the fortress.
Vincent thought about this strange encounter as he quickly approached the legislature quarters of Mizra. He was surprised to see the forms of the Queen’s advisors huddled together outside the door talking fervently amongst themselves, completely unaware that Vincent was in hearing distance.