Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) (12 page)

“Well, you may as well come have a look,” Madame Fae said unconvincingly as she began laying out the contents of the chest.  “I have everything you ask for.  Green algae from the Sea of Eudine, crystalized sap from the Red Swamp cypress tree, wild mushroom extract, ground up cherry pits that contain small amounts of cyanide, and lastly, a bit of apple cider vinegar.”  Zora peeked over Madame Fae’s shoulder and examined the array of contents, ensuring that everything she needed was accounted for.  She smiled inwardly.

“Madame Fae,” Zora began shyly, “do you mind if I prepare it?  I feel as though I’ve put you out immensely already and don’t want to take up more of your time.”

“Have you any experience with such mixtures?” Madame Fae responded.  Zora nodded, a slight smirk creeping at the edges of her mouth. 

“I prepare them all the time in my chamber,” she replied honestly.  “I have problems with insomnia, you see.  I also have personal gardens where I can grow anything I like.” 

Madame Fae gave her another reflective look before she erupted into laughter.  “That,” she exclaimed, “I was not expecting!”

For the next hour, Zora brewed while Madame Fae observed quietly at her side, peeping up occasionally to give her opinion.  Shortly thereafter, the large cauldron was bubbling a thick acrid smelling concoction the color and texture of mud.  When she was complete, Zora had enough brew to fill several pint sized jars, and then some, which Madame Fae was eager to do for her. 

“Here, child, let me show you a little trick that’ll come in useful every time you brew.  This,” she said,” is Liquid Hue.  It’ll turn any brew into the pigment you need it to be.”  She withdrew another jar, and with a small pipette, transferred an infinitesimal amount of Liquid Hue to the jar of fetid brew.  Instantly, the solution became more liquefied.  The horrible brownish tinge completely disappeared until it looked no different from water, and the foul stench lingered only slightly.

“Wow,” Zora said under her breath, having never witnessed such an enchantment before in her life.  After everything was finished, Zora added a pint jar of brew and one of Liquid Hue to the wicker basket full of vegetables and went to thank Madame Fae for her services.  She was surprised, however, to discover a look of distress upon the older woman’s face.

“Madame Fae?  What’s wrong?” Zora questioned.

“I didn’t want to say anything at first,” she said quickly, “but I suspect it will prove detrimental if I do not.”  Madame Fae gripped Zora’s tiny hands again.

“Everything I said to you in the beginning was true, child, I want you to know that.  You radiate goodness, which is harder to come by than one may think.  But when I was reading you, there was a moment when my mind was clouded with shadow, and the most disturbing feeling invaded my heart and blotted out all the good I’d seen.”

“I’m no soothsayer, believe me, but my prescience tells me you have a difficult journey ahead of you.  At times, you may have to choose between what is right for you and what is right for others.  So, I want you to accept this gift from me.  It’s a brew of my own special design, and it’s the very last bit of it.”  Madame Fae withdrew a small pewter flask bedecked with several gems from the pocket of her apron. 

“Hold out your hands and cup them together,” she instructed.  Zora did as directed, but Madame Fae’s strange behavior was making Zora nervous.  The older woman stood directly in front of Zora’s outstretched hands and held the flask up high in the air above her, ever slowly tipping it forward until Zora was sure liquid was going to pour forth from it at any moment.  When the flask was completely vertical in the air, Zora watched as a solitary drop of liquid dangled on the lip for what seemed like eternity, then detached and fell rapidly towards Zora’s cupped hands.  Only a couple of centimeters above her palms, the droplet halted, suspended in flight.

Dumbfounded, Zora watched as the droplet began to slowly transfigure into an amorphous liquid metal, lustrous and silver in color.  She withstood the temptation of pulling back her outstretched hands as the shapeless metallic mass inched closer to her.  It continued to change, becoming engorged, then imploding, the substance’s inchoate form expanding and retracting until it settled on its desired shape.  Without warning, a light erupted from the object, blinding Zora momentarily. 

As the unexplained light dimmed, she felt a sudden weight in her hand that was cool yet hard to the touch.  Looking down, Zora saw that it was a solidified version of the liquid metal fashioned into the likeness of an hourglass, the size of a pendent and attached to a silver rope chain.  It continued to change until the metal was replaced by clear, frameless glass.  Blue sand, meant to measure the passage of time, stood frozen between the two compartments where it should normally have run freely. 

Feeling the innate urge to place the chain around her neck, Zora pulled the necklace over her head, and, as she did so, the chain shrunk around her neck till it hung right above her breastplate.  She ran her thumb and forefinger along the chain feeling for a beginning or end to the circlet yet discovering none.

Something in the back of her mind told Zora that everything she was experiencing was abnormal and dangerous, and it begged her not to get involved but to run the other direction.  At the same time, the sudden attachment she felt to this charm appeared true and correct, and it seemed like a waste to reject a feeling so intense.  Stroking the hourglass unsurely, Zora noticed Madame Fae watching her, scrutinizing her reactions to everything that had just occurred. 

“What was that?” Zora asked, unable to hide the disbelief in her voice.  Madame Fae remained still and composed.

“That’s a potion of my own creation,” answered Madame Fae soundly.  “I created it to evolve into whatever it is that that person needs the most.  Mind you, it will only appear to you once in your life and can only be used at that crucial moment.”  Zora shook her head, not understanding a thing Madame Fae was trying to explain. 

“This doesn’t make sense,” she said frantically.  “Why would I need an hourglass?  They are nothing special and easy to come by.  What does it mean?”

Madame Fae took Zora’s face mildly in her hand, just as a mother would, and addressed her concerns.  “It fashioned itself into an hourglass because that is the most energy efficient shape for you.”  Zora gave her a blank stare so Madame Fae replied with, “Don’t reflect on this too deeply, child.  Throughout time hourglasses have consistently represented balance… in everything one experiences.”  Zora’s blank expression darkened.

“Balance,” she repeated, clearly unimpressed.  “They usually represent time.” 

“Just remember what I said about it.  You’ll know when you need it most, and then it will prevail.”  She patted Zora’s cheek and withdrew her hand.

A large knock at Madame Fae’s front door caused Zora to jump in surprise.

“My Lady,” Arianna’s voice spoke through the door jam.  “We have to get going.  It’s going to be sunset soon, and we have a lot left to do.  The feast in your honor is less than two hours away!”  Zora cringed at the thought of how late it was and turned to thank Madame Fae for everything she had done, but the older women was already gone from the room.  She looked around for her, flabbergasted, but found nothing.  Gathering the contents of the brew in a basket and caressing the glass pendent around her neck, she exited the small cottage and stepped out into the coming sunset.  After today, she felt even more prepared to take on the coming night and meet her soon to be husband.

Chapter 8

Milo stood outside Madame Fae’s cottage as he watched Zora and Arianna walk urgently back to Mizra.  The young noble was toting a large basket full of jars and was constantly looking back over her shoulder to the cottage with a look of wonder and confusion.  Milo had excused himself from the two women’s company with the excuse that he rarely saw his friend, Fae, and wanted to catch up with her. 

Milo had been contemplating for some time whether or not he should bring Zora to see Madame Fae.  Only the lack of a valid reason that would convince Zora kept him from doing so.  Ironically, how she came to get there this morning was entirely fortuitous.  Zora’s own curiosity to find certain herbs to use in her brew prompted him to suggest that Madame Fae might by able to help.  How these events came together without any outside intervention only furthered Milo’s belief that there was even more to Zora Winnser than he’d initially believed. 

As the forms of the two women diminished in the coming dusk, he turned around and reentered Madame Fae’s small dwelling.  He was eager to find out what had happened in there.  Madame Fae was standing in front of the hearth, staring deeply into the roaring fire that was now blazing, trying to ward off the nighttime chill sneaking over the mountain peaks.  The intense aroma of sage was beginning to subside as the charcoal in the censers slowly burned out. 

When she heard him come in, Madame Fae turned in his direction and offered a nod of acknowledgement, then returned her gaze to the fire.  Milo sat himself at the small dinning table set against the wall that was equipped with a coffee kettle and two cups.  He poured himself a splash of coffee, feeling the heat from the freshly brewed batch warm his hands.  He allowed Madame Fae a moment to finish her meditation before she joined him at the table knowing that he was anxious to find out what she had discovered.

“You were correct, Warden,” Madame Fae began.  “She’s a sorceress.  I saw the aura of Ithillium surrounding her the moment she walked through my doors.”

“I presumed as much,” Milo exhaled sharply.  He’d been holding his breath in anticipation.  “I’ve seen the way the earth responds to her.  It’s quite beautiful, actually.”

Fae gave Milo an interrogating look.  “This isn’t
that
unusual.  You’ve been around long enough to know that.  These people are born, live, and die.  Most of them never know what it is that makes them so different from other Commoners.  And it’s meant to be like that as it is written.”  She leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of the table.

“What is your purpose for all this anyway?  You’ve traveled to Samaria dozens of times, coming and going without a glance behind you.  What makes your interest in this girl so great that you sought out my help?” 

Before Milo could defend himself, Fae was standing next to him.  His free hand was clasped in hers as she held it palm up against her breasts.  This time her eyes were closed, and Milo could feel her heartbeat beneath his palms, the pulses getting quicker and quicker the longer she held his hand.  Milo had experienced the feeling before; that moment of susceptibility when a Reader is looking into the deepest corners of your heart, uncovering everything that is meant to stay hidden from others. When she was done, she opened her eyes and gave him a look that mimicked pity. 

“I see,” she murmured to herself before releasing his hand.  “Well, what do you plan to do now?  Make a requisition to the Oligarchs for her relocation and expect it to be granted with enthusiasm?  How would you even get her there?  The Border is there for a purpose.” 

Milo just looked away from her.  He knew that Readers were capable of seeing both the good and evil in people and were taught impartiality towards whatever they beheld, but that didn’t make her intrusion on his intimate thoughts any easier to accept.

“Is that really such a bad plan?” he replied to her.

“You cannot be serious with this!”

“What did you see when you read her?” Milo asked.  He could tell Fae didn’t want to discuss what she saw in Zora, because the women began to squirm in her chair.

“She’s gifted,” Fae admitted, “such as I haven’t seen in a long, long time, at least for one of us.  And she’s entirely aware of it!  She knows that something is off in her life, but she can’t figure out what.”  The older woman paused briefly.  “I know that she came to me today out of her own volition and not because you told her too.  Only those who are meant to be read will blindly seek out one who can.  It is truly a good sign.” 

“Okay, so she’s already passed the first level inquisition then, hasn’t she?  Only more reason for her to come with me and be somewhere she can learn to control Ithillium.  It’s affecting her negatively now, for she complains of insomnia and nightmares.  Her experiences will only continue to worsen until her inability to control Ithillium extinguishes her life.  We might as well start teaching her now and spare such an end.”

“You need to look beyond your biases!” Fae insisted.  “She’s a
woman
.  Do you think if you bring her before the Oligarchs they’ll accept her just because you say so?  It won’t happen!  They’ll test her capabilities beyond her control and she won’t survive.  She’s better off staying as she is and letting the effects of Ithillium consume her.” 

Milo shook his head.  The thought of Zora dying an agonizing, premature death was unbearable. 

“I have influence there, Fae, and I can protect her,” Milo said earnestly.  The woman smiled weakly at his naïve hopefulness.  What she had seen when she read him only moments earlier was becoming more and more clear.  In the many years she’d known the Warden, she’d never seen him act so stubborn.  Nothing she could say to him now would alter his opinion on this subject.  A moment of silence passed between the two of them before Milo asked the question that the Reader was hoping he would forget about all together.

“What else did you see in her heart when you read her?” Milo inquired.  “I know there is more than what you told me?” 

Fae grudgingly thought back to that single moment when she was looking into Zora’s eyes, and she saw before her own mind the evil shadow growing larger within Zora’s being.  It was infiltrating the weaknesses in her mortality and injecting the would-be vibrant youth with feelings of sadness and discontent.  Its influence over Zora was strong, almost forceful, and something Fae couldn’t look at with out it siphoning all the happiness out of her own spirit. She met the questioning gaze of the man who cared so deeply for the young woman whose future was so uncertain.

“She has a good heart.  I’m positive of that,” was all Fae said about the matter.  She saw the muscles in Milo’s face relax, as if her verdict had relieved him of his worries.  He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. 

“Thank you for agreeing to see her.  I know that you’re trying to forget that part of your past, but I have a strong feeling that Zora will be the start of something new and great for all of us.”  Fae remained silent but gave his hand genuine squeeze in return for his gratefulness.

“Why don’t you come home to Cerendova,” Milo asked her suddenly.  “You’ve been away long enough.  What’s done is done, and I miss my friend.”

“This
is
my home now,” she replied.  “Just promise me you’ll take care of the girl and do what you can to show them how great her potential is.  Don’t let their beliefs muddle that.” 

With that, the older woman stood up from the table, as if she no longer wanted to be involved in that particular conversation with Milo.  She began walking the length of the room, toying with the bells braided into her hair as she mused deeply to herself.

***

              Shortly after, the Warden bade a farewell to Fae and headed out towards the northwestern point of the Anion Mountain range.  As a Warden, that was his assigned Zone.  The fact that Sariel had strongly urged him to recheck his work made him decide to forgo Zora’s pre-wedding celebration to do so.   He also had no desire to be around the crude and loud DeVore family, and the fact that Zora was being forced to marry into it only upset him. 

It would take an hour riding his mule to reach the Forest of Mirth, and by then it would be nightfall.  The Warden sighed, wishing he were adventurous enough to wander the mines underneath the mountains like Zora, knowing it would take him less travel time if he did so.  After an hour and a half of traveling through heavy ticket and over steep ground, both the Warden and his mule were in a foul mood.

The sun had set quickly and was replaced by a black sky and new moon whose outline appeared like a circular disk above him.  The further one traveled away from the valley, the quieter the forest became till nothing could be heard but the echo of his mule’s footsteps padding along the path.  If the night sky had stars in it, the Warden couldn’t see them, for remnants of thick southern storm clouds floating up from the Borderlands obscured the sky.

              “Good, you decided to come.”  Sariel’s voice broke through the still air.  “I thought you would.”  The Guardian had appeared next to him, hopping effortlessly over the many rocks that poked up through the dirt of the narrow mountain trail.  He had a sword strapped over his back this time, and a leather whip with a glass handle was attached to his waist belt.  His onyx skin swirled with waves of pearl that shimmered despite the lack of moonlight in the forest.

              “I knew if I didn’t I’d never hear the end of it,” the Warden replied, pushing his knees hard into the mule so it would redirect around a moss-covered boulder.

              “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Sariel attested.  He perched upon one of the rocks and scanned the view over the trees, his shoulder length silver hair flowing in waves around his finely chiseled face.  “We are close.  I feel it.” 

The Warden nodded.  They were walking through the final break in the mountains that led to the Shoulder.  By now he could see the dark forest from his vantage point on the hill.  Where the Samarian ice tundra ended and the sinister forest began was drawn like a black line in white sand. 

The overgrowth of the forest’s vegetation was so thick, the Warden couldn’t tell where one thistle began and another one ended.  The thorns were as thick as a human thumb and as sharp as a dagger’s edge.  They oozed a creamy yellow discharge that dripped onto the rocks beneath them, hissing like acid.  The dead trees reached high into the grey clouds with their gnarled, skeletal branches grasping at the air like bony fingers.  Their bark was dry and chaffed, as if fire had consumed the whole land and left nothing behind but the ash and decay.  The ground was nothing but rocks, covered in black mold and dirt.

              As the pair encroached on the forest, the Warden shuddered to himself.  The air was freezing cold, and his mule was starting to become restless.  He stopped and dismounted the beast, feeling for his sword that he always carried with him.  The atmosphere around him was completely soundless.  There was no movement on the land, no rustle of leaves from the wind, and no breath from the Guardian next to him.  Everything about this place seemed unnatural.

              “Do you need to make the Bond with me?” Sariel asked.  The Warden shook his head. 

              “I’ll be fine,” he replied brusquely.  Sariel ruffled his thick wings and drew them in close to his upper back.

              “Don’t be arrogant,” he warned, evoking a sigh from the man. 

              “Fine. When you’re ready then,” he said as he stepped cautiously towards the outline of the dense forest, sword drawn.  Dirty snow and ice grinded under his boots.

A shrill scream suddenly erupted through the silent air causing the Warden to cry out loud and clasp his hands over his ears.  The bloodcurdling wails assaulted him from every direction, filling the air with deafening cries till he was doubled over, and his teeth were clinched tight to keep the sound out. 

While on his knees, the Warden was attacked by swells of heinous emotion coming forth from the forest: fury, hatred, jealousy, blood lust, all so overwhelming they made him sick to his stomach.  Wishful thoughts of evil poisoned his mind, trying to break through the barricade Sariel had put in place by creating the Bond.

He felt the Guardian reach out to him with his own inner Vim, replenishing the goodness of Ithillium that was being sucked out of his soul by this place, making him vulnerable to its demise.  He clamped his eyes closed and held his breath as he allowed Sariel’s power to push back the evil coming from the forest.  The earsplitting screams increased in intensity, but Sariel’s extension of power created a barrier between him and whatever force was attempting to infiltrate his mind.

With the screams now slightly muted around him, the man straightened up and inhaled deeply, determined to fight back.  He reached deep within himself, to his own inner Vim, his living core of energy.  It was the only defense he had against the evil seeping out of the forest.  He quickly made the Bond and felt the power of Ithillium surge through his body like blood pumping through his veins.  He fluxed it through his body till it was concentrated at his fingertips, and the energy around him sizzled with heat.  He reached out towards the Forest of Mirth and blasted the energy through his hands with all the strength he could muster.

White balls of power hit the invisible forest wall with a thunderous boom that sent sparks raining down onto the icy ground.  The fragments of the shattered orbs traveled up the web, searing like fire until they hit the sky and exploded, causing the entire northern zenith to sizzle with energy.  It flew though the heavens, illuminating the tundra with tendrils of Ithillium in purple, green, and blue until they fizzled out into nothingness.