Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) (17 page)

              “I can do a great many things.  You will soon learn that as my student.  And you’ll be able to do them as well.  Now, what say you?  Serve me.”

              Zora thought back to her childhood, reliving all the pain of her mother’s rejection.  Now, that would be gone, as if it never existed.  All she had to do was say yes to the man before her, who most definitely saw she was special.  The words were on the tip of her tongue, words that would bind her to this phantom’s service forever, when her inner conscious screamed at her again.

             
No!
 
Deny him! 

“This isn’t possible,” Zora decided out loud.  She looked around the dim nothingness and thought back to the jimson weed she’d ingested just before sleep.  

“You’re not real,” she declared.  “Your promises aren’t real.”  A look of controlled rage washed over the man’s face as she said this.  He barred his teeth irascibly at her, all the momentary kindness washed away by his anger at her dismissal.

A shadow had begun creeping into her consciousness as she thought about accepting his offer, and she saw it destroy the happiest memories of her existence and replace them with feelings of despair.

“Go away!” she yelled at him suddenly.  “You’re nothing but a phantom!  Stop bothering me!  Get out of my mind!” 

The man just laughed at her. 

“Suit yourself, Zora,” he sneered as his image began slowly fading from her vision.  “Enjoy your time in the Borderlands!”

              Then, Zora’s dream went blank.

***

When Zora opened her eyes, she was back in the comfort of her bed, and the serenity of night still covered Samaria.  She clinched her jaw till it hurt more than the mark on her mid section, which ached painfully.

              “I can’t do this anymore,” Zora said to herself, tears of frustration forming at the corner of her eyes.  As she said this, her distorted thoughts shifted to Milo. 

I know he can help me figure out where these dreams are coming from.  I trust him more than anyone
, she thought desperately as she pushed aside her bed covers and set out to find her friend. 

Instead of the mines, tonight Zora’s destination was the old stone dungeons that were once used to house prisoners of war when Mizra was nothing but a military stronghold.  Now, they were used as servants’ quarters, and that’s where Milo stayed.  Like normal, she traveled through the pitch-black caves with nothing more than a dim lantern, blind to everything but the touch of smooth stone under her fingertips and the hum of water gushing through the lower levels of the mountain caves.  Zora had no idea which cell was Milo’s, but she let her heightened senses and intuition guide her steps

At length, Zora’s feet found the stone staircase that lead up to the servants’ quarters.  From there she swiftly ran, her bare feet making subtle clapping sounds against the steps.  A dull glow springing suddenly from the cavernous shadows appeared at the top of the stair.  A sconce shaped like the rutted peaks of the Anions held a flaming torch that whipped orange flame in Zora’s face.

Zora advanced to the third floor of the dungeon, leaving behind the comfort of glowing torches behind.  Up she climbed, the sound of her heavy breathing overshadowed by the howling frigid air as it whisked down the staircase from above.  Zora welcomed it as the dry air swallowed up the small droplets of perspiration that had matted her long hair to her forehead during her run.  Zora finally reached the entrance to the cell she was positive was Milo’s even through she’d never been there before.

She peered through the bars of the door’s small window and into the room. Milo sitting motionless in his bed, his knees almost touching his chest as he held a book in his hands reading peacefully.  She pounded on the door.

              “Milo, it’s me,” she pleaded breathlessly.  “Please open up.”  She heard muted scurrying behind the door before it opened.  A disheveled Milo stood before her in a plain tunic and breeches looking at her anxiously.

              “Zora what is it?  Are you alright?”  Quickly he grabbed her by the elbow and ushered her into his small room.  He shut the door behind him and barred it securely, then put his hands carefully on Zora’s shoulders and looked into her distressed eyes. 

“Zora, it’s the middle of the night.  Are you hurt?”  Concern filled his voice.

              “No, Milo.  I’m not hurt, not really.  It’s just…I…um…” she struggled to find a way to explain why she’d barged in on her old friend in the middle of the night.  “I had a nightmare.”  She winced at how silly that must sound to Milo, but his tense features relaxed after she said that.

              “Well, it must have been quite horrible for you to come all the way here just to see me about it.”  He looked around.  “How exactly did you find me?”  Zora just shrugged innocently.

              “I don’t know.  I just did.” 

Milo looked at her strangely before dropping his gaze and adding, “I don’t have much to offer you, but there’s tea and rye bread.  Are you hungry?”  Zora nodded as she wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand.  As Milo went to retrieve the food and drink, she leaned back against the cold wall of his chamber and took a seat.

“Now, tell me what’s on your mind,” he said as he handed her a cup of tea.  Zora gulped it down before answering him.

“Can you be honest with me about something?” she began. “Do you know anything about dreams?  Do you know what they are exactly?  Why we have them? What they could mean in reality?”  She stopped as the words came tumbling out.  “I know you’re well traveled and educated, so you must’ve learned something after so many years.  Anything would help.”

Milo was a little surprised; that wasn’t what he was expecting her to ask.  But he cared about the girl and would answer her to the best of his knowledge, which on the subject of dreams wasn’t much.  He sat down on the edge of his bed.

“I haven’t much knowledge of dreams,” Milo began.  “What I have learned throughout my years of travel is that people can study them their whole lives and never understand them.  History will show you that every civilization, both past and present, has had its own beliefs at one point or another, but I’m afraid it’s all speculation, my dear.  I wish I had a more substantial answer for you.”

“Do you know if people exist nowadays that study dreams?”

“I really have no idea.  But can you please tell me what all this is about?”  Zora played nervously with a loose thread on her chemise while she thought.

“I was asking you if you knew anything because I have been having rather strange dreams lately, nightmares is a better way to describe them.  But this isn’t the first time I’ve had them.  They started about three years ago, when I was thirteen, and they’ve increased in occurrence over the last couple of months so that I’ve come to expect them nightly.”  She stopped to see if Milo was still listening because what she was about to say seemed a bit delusional.

  “In them I hear this voice, and it’s sweet and motherly at first.  It promises me things like magnificence and power, and the ability to do anything I can imagine.  Each time I deny its offers of unlimited power, it gets cruel, and I feel pain. 
Real
pain.” 

She averted Milo’s gaze, and her hand went to her ribs, as if she was in pain at that very moment.  When she looked at him, Milo could see the anguish behind her eyes that went along with her story.  Suddenly, Milo’s concern turned into apprehension.  He had heard tales of such dreams before, but he didn’t want to tell her so.

“I don’t think I can take it anymore,” Zora continued, desperation etched deep into her voice. “Is there anything you can do that will help me?  Because nothing I grow, or brew, or ingest seems able to stop the dreams from haunting me.”

“Zora,” Milo asked slowly, trying not to show the unease he felt. “What else has this voice said to you?  Have you ever done what it has told you to?”  Zora nodded quickly.

“I did, Milo. Just once, three years ago.  The voice kept coercing me, and I didn’t know what it was, honest.  I thought it was somebody who needed my help, someone who needed me somehow.  So I followed it below Mizra and out to the Forest of Mirth.

To this day I don’t know if I dreamed it or if it really happened.  But I saw this man.  He was unbelievably handsome, but everything about him was wrong.  I could feel it, just like I do in my dreams.  And when he touched me, it was as if I was touched by death.”

The young noble looked down at her feet shamefully.  “Can I confide one more thing in you, Milo?” she asked meekly.  Zora came to her feet and stood in the center of the room where the candlelight glowed brightest.  Slowly, she gathered up the bottom of her chemise and lifted it up to her naval, leaving her abdomen exposed and her legs covered in nothing but white bloomers.  Then, she pulled down the bloomers so they were half way down her hips.

Milo’s breath got caught in his throat.  As he stared at the woman before him, her pale blonde hair tumbling over her small frame, he could see nothing other than the crimson red handprint marked across her milky white flesh.  It looked as though it was alive and trying to claw its way below her skin.  The image of the handprint suddenly faded revealing a less menacing, strangely shaped pink scar beneath it. 

Zora watched Milo’s reaction for some sort of confirmation that what she’d just shown him was the result of something dangerous and unnatural.  He jumped up from the bed and grabbed her upheld clothing, pulling it down so that it covered her bare skin once more.  His elderly face was serious.

“Zora, have you told anyone else about this?”  The young woman shook her head.  “Then I strongly suggest you keep it to yourself.  Just until I can find out more information about it.”  Zora grabbed his hand, hard.

“Have you seen this mark before?” she asked him.  “Something in your face tells me you have.”  Her grip on his hand tightened and her voice lowered to nothing more than a whisper.  “Please help me understand what’s happening to me.”  Milo shook his hand out of her iron grip.

“Zora, I’m not positive what it is.  Honest.  I’d tell you if I knew.  Don’t you trust me?”  He wanted to reach out and cup Zora’s chin in his hands reassuringly but resisted the urge. 

“Look, I’m accompanying you to Montanisto, just like we planned.  The Queen approved my release of service this morning.  Remember?  I have a friend in the south who may be able to shed some light on what’s causing your dreams and what exactly this all means.  When we get there, I promise I’ll talk to him for you.”  Zora shook her head and frowned when he said this.

“Milo, that’s not possible,” she said slowly.  “You
can’t
be going to Montanisto with me.” 

She clearly remembered Prince Spencer rebuffing her request for Milo to join her in Montanisto.  Without a doubt, everything that Spencer had told her after he’d ingested the truth telling brew had been true; he had passed her test.  If Milo
was
going to Montanisto, the Queen would have approved it before her engagement celebration earlier that night, and Spencer would also have had to agree to take on the old teacher.  He would’ve told her so when she asked his permission for Milo to come, but Spencer had told her she didn’t need a teacher.  Clearly, Milo was lying about being cleared to go to Montanisto.

She studied the old man’s large blue-green eyes with crow’s feet on the side for evidence of deception but found none.  Milo was still staring at her expectantly. 

I came here because I trusted you as a friend and you’re keeping things from me,
Zora thought bitterly, but
she
felt herself nodding her head in agreement.  Milo looked relieved. 

“You have my word we’ll get the help you need once we’re down south,” Milo told her.  “Now, please go back to bed.  You have a long day of traveling tomorrow.”  He put his hand on the small of her back and pushed her to the door.  As she grabbed the door handle to exit the room, Milo stopped her.

“Zora, remember don’t say a word about this to anyone.  Do you promise?”  There was an unnerving edge to his voice. 

“I promise,” she whispered with her back to him, then exited the chamber silently.  Milo stood frozen in the same spot for several moments after Zora had left, waiting for the blood to stop racing in his veins and his feelings of fear to quickly dwindle. 

Chapter 11

“I wasn’t expecting so many people to be here,” Zora commented to Arianna.  “It’s barely past sunrise.”

She looked above her and saw several faces hanging out of Mizra’s open windows as they passed beneath them.  The two women were leaving Mizra and walking towards the cast iron gate that separated the fortress from Alumhy.  They were escorted by four Samarian Guards led by Vincent Lowe.  The gate is where Zora would rendezvous with Spencer and the Carian caravan who’d accompany her and Arianna to Montanisto.  Groups of people from the fortress crowded Mizra’s gardens watching the procession, hoping to get a peak at the royal DeVore family as they left Samaria. 

Zora felt exhausted.  She didn’t sleep a wink after leaving Milo’s bedchamber last night, and she couldn’t get the nagging feeling out of her mind that he was keeping something from her.

  “As one who grew up with very little, I can relate to them,” Arianna said.  “A life of wealth and luxury can be confused with a life of ease and happiness.  They are fascinated by it.”

              Zora remained quite.  At this moment, she’d trade places with any of the servants rather than leave her country to marry the imprudent Prince of Montanisto.  She brought her left hand to the mark on her abdomen, which still ached painfully.  Today, she was grumpy and not feeling well.

As they neared the large gate that enclosed Mizra, Zora could see the streets of Alumhy lined with citizens there to bid her farewell.  Another group had gathered at the entrance to see Zora off.  This included Queen Evangeline, several high servants, and Castle Guards.  She saw Percy and Miranda DeVore nearby, and Spencer who was on horseback, still wrapped in the ridiculous fur that made his head look two sizes too small for his body. 

Next to the group was a pair of immaculately decorated palanquins.  Zora was surprised to see two small men guarding the vehicles, and they were wearing all black uniforms with headscarves.  Zora recognized them as the strange people who’d been trailing the Carian elite only a few days earlier.  While she studied the strange sentries, Lady Miranda appeared and delicately stepped into one of the litters, which was then hoisted into the air by the two servants, ready to be taken away.  Spencer cantered over to Zora and Arianna when he saw them arrive.  She searched his face for signs that he’d recalled Zora’s line of inquiry the previous evening, but he appeared to act normally.

“Lady Zora,” he addressed her. “I wasn’t sure which mode of transportation you were accustomed to, if any, since it appears you’re not well traveled.  We have a palanquin, which Lady Miranda uses, or I can fetch a horse for you to ride.” 

Zora looked around.  She didn’t want to be confined to the small man-powered vehicle.  She wanted to see her surroundings, feel the sun on her skin, and smell the air.  But at the same time, she was a very poor ride.

“I’ll ride, Prince Spencer.  And I’ll need a mule for my maidservant as well.”  Her betrothed pressed his thin lips together. 

“For future knowledge, Zora, it’s somewhat unrefined for a Carian noblewoman to ride horseback.  But Samarian customs are different; we’ll just have to break you of them.  Soon.  I’ve already arranged one of Percy’s house servants to fetch Arianna.  She needs to be educated in Southern conventionalism, especially if she’s going to be serving in my house with my wife.  She’s far too free-willed, Zora.” 

“Is that really necessary?” Zora asked.  “She’s been my maidservant for years!  She’s very obedient and won’t cause any problems, I promise.”

“Obviously what I consider humble servitude is quite different from what you consider it to be,” Spencer retorted.  “Arianna goes to Idenborough, and I won’t have her serving you until her training is complete.  We can’t have her type of people putting ill-informed and unruly ideas in the other servants’ heads.  We are done speaking about it.”

Spencer spun his horse away from her and whistled between his teeth.  What Zora thought was a Carian Guard appeared leading a black and brown mare already saddled up for the journey.  Distraught, Zora turned around to say goodbye to her maidservant and friend, but two Carian women were already hulling Arianna off. 

“I’m sorry!” Zora croaked out to her.  Arianna just looked over her shoulder, gave her a sad look, then waved goodbye.   

   Zora returned her attention back to Spencer who dipped his head in the direction of the man holding the mare’s reigns.  “That’s Dakota.  He’s charged with watching over your safety till we get to Montanisto.  He’s been instructed to keep you in his sight day and night.  My orders.  And while I understand that parting from your family may be difficult, please keep your farewells short.  We have a long day ahead of us.  I’ll be continuing up to the front of the caravan where King Andre is leading with his Guard.  I’ll expect you to accompany me in, say, less than one half hour.  That should be ample time to wrap things up here.”  He bowed his head towards her and, without waiting for her to respond, rode off, as if she should know to do as she’s told without question.

Zora sighed with a heavy heart.  She looked towards where her mother was standing only a couple of yards away, conversing privately with Vincent.  She stopped talking when her eyes met her daughter’s.  With her whole country watching, Evangeline was going to put on the perfect act as a caring, compassionate mother.  Zora knew it.  Sure enough, Evangeline walked briskly over to Zora, her hourglass figure swaying back and forth with each step, and drew her into a stiff embrace.  When she released her, Evangeline gave Zora an ugly, deformed smile.  Zora detested her mother’s closeness and wanted to pull away.

“I want you to know, daughter, that I am doing this for your own good,” Evangeline said.  “The Sovereign Alliance would never have approved your succession to the throne, and you would have lived out a miserable life here in the shadow of a true successor.  At least in Montanisto you can start over and live a life without resentment.”

“Stop lying to yourself to ease your guilt,” Zora retaliated.  “The only thing in this life I resent is
you
.  Trust me when I say I am not the fool you think I am.  While you may never have educated me in political statues, no law-making entity would dare deny me what is rightfully mine.  And I know that.”

Evangeline made a clucking noise with her tongue.  “You think you know,” she replied with a smile.  “But there is no one, daughter, who will venture as far as the Borderlands to save you.  You are nothing in this Realm.” 

“I guess we shall see then,” she said defiantly. “But despite everything, there is one useful lesson you taught me in the last sixteen years; nothing comes for free.  Someone is always in it for themselves.  I don’t know what your personal agenda is, but I will not let you lead this beautiful country, MY country, into self-destruction for your own personal gain.”  Zora leaned in closer so that she was confident Vincent wouldn’t overhear her.  “I
will
see you soon, Evangeline.  I can promise you as much.”  With that, she pecked her mother gently on the cheek before turning away with a bitter taste on her tongue.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Evangeline called out to her.  “The South is rumored to be somewhat primeval.”  Zora cringed inwardly but kept walking.  Her mother’s hostile jabs only fueled her growing rancor. 

The only Samarian advisor present to see Zora off was Talan Leatherby.  As she approached him, the noble suddenly got the oddest feeling that something about that wasn’t right.  When she stood in front of him, he tried to give her a smile, but Zora could tell he was sad for her.  Zora always thought Talan was attractive in his own quirky way.  Today, his bouffant brown hair framed his kind face, and his fingernails still had mine dust underneath them.

“If you want my honest opinion, Lady Zora, I think what they are forcing you to do is horrible,” Talan whispered.  “Just because you don’t know who your father is doesn’t make you unfit to be our Queen.  You’re still a Samarian, and you’d be a damned good Queen.”

“I’ve known my whole life I’d never be Queen.  Law is law,” Zora replied sadly.  She looked around and said, “Where are the other advisors?  The Queen is never seen without them, especially during an important event such as this.”

Zora watched as all the color drained from Talan’s face.  He began fiddling with the buttons on his overcoat nervously.

“Talan, what is it?”

“I really shouldn’t say, My Lady…but something unusual stirs in Mizra.  Last night I received a letter from Ambrose Cornwell asking me to meet with him and the other advisors to discuss your mother’s decreasing popularity among her people.  I know he was referring to certain actions the Queen has recently taken.  I didn’t respond to him, though.  If discovered, such an action would be considered treason, My Lady, punishable by death!  And I’m loyal to the Winnser bloodline!”  Talan bit his lip and his eyebrows furrowed.

“This morning, Vincent came to my chambers explaining that Ambrose had fallen ill and wasn’t expected to live.  He also said the Queen had ordered Arvil and Brutus away to Rienne to take care of some business matters for her, and that they’d left early that morning.  None of that makes any sense, Lady Zora.  If anything, I think the three of them were found out by the Queen, and she had the Guard take matters into their own hands.”

“You mean she had them killed?” Zora asked, unable to keep the shock out of her voice.

“That or imprisoned,” Talan answered softly.  Feelings of dread itched underneath Zora’s skin as she took in the information Talan had divulged to her.  She knew there were problems with the mines, with the economy, and with the citizens’ trust in their Queen.  But political unrest?  Never in the history of Samaria had a Queen’s advisors committed treason.  Zora grabbed Talan’s hand and laced her fingers through his.

  “Talan, I need to ask something important of you.  And I need to know without a doubt that you’ll do it.”  Zora’s sky-blue eyes were wide and serious. 

“Watch over Samaria for me.  Be my eyes and ears, for I fear for my country’s future.  Make sure you do everything possible to protect what it stands for.  If there is anyone I can trust, it’s you.  I promise I’ll be back.  I’ll do whatever it takes to return.”

“Aye, Lady Zora.  I’ll do my best,” Talan replied, bringing her hand up to his lips and brushing it with a light kiss. “You be safe and take care.”  He dropped his voice.  “This isn’t goodbye.”

She quickly turned away from him.  Her heart was already burdened with so much sorrow that looking at Talan only made it worse. 

When Zora reached the mare stationed for her, the Carian servant, Dakota, held out his hand to help her mount the beast.  He was of middle age, had coppery skin, and jet-black hair that was as long as Zora’s.  Zora struggled to bestride the large horse, and Dakota quickly had his hands on her to steady her and get her comfortable.  She only rode occasionally and was bad at it, due to the fact that in Alumhy one could easily walk to all the places they needed to.  When she was settled and had the reigns in hand, she stared down into Dakota’s expressionless face.

“Thank you, sir.  Now will you please escort me to Prince Spencer.”

“Aye, My Lady,” he responded.  He mounted his own horse and began leading her through the maze of Samarian citizens crowding the streets.

Zora told herself not to look behind her to see if Evangeline was still standing at Mizra’s gate, watching her departure.  She looked anyway with a brief glance over her shoulder and was disappointed to see the Queen and her advisors were nowhere in sight.  The iron-gate was closed and locked, like normal.  Zora looked up the length of it, never noticing how massive it actually was.  Dakota cleared his throat.

“My Lady, we cannot lag behind.  If Spencer requested you, you mustn’t be tardy.” 

Zora nodded and continued following him through the streets she knew so well.  Samarians were still crowded at the sides, waving goodbye to her and singing Samaria’s anthem.  Young children sat perched on their fathers’ shoulders waving the Samarian flag, delighted by the procession of nobles.  Overall the atmosphere of Alumhy was anxious and unhappy.  Zora knew that her people were trying to look cheerful for her, even though underneath their façade, Zora could feel the unrest they felt about her forced departure.  Who would take over after Evangeline was gone?  Zora waved back to all of her people, trying her hardest to keep from getting choked up from the sadness she felt from leaving.

When Zora and her escort finally met up with Spencer, the caravan was almost out of the city.  Nothing but rolling hillsides and a zigzag path leading out of the mountains lay before her.  Spencer was busy conversing with one of his guards when he saw her approaching.  He slowed his horse so she could catch up with him.

“Good, you didn’t dally too long,” he said. 

Why does he always sound like he’s talking down to me,
Zora thought.

“Of course not, My Prince,” she replied to appease him.  “You’re correct in assuming I’m not well traveled, but I hear stories from those who are.  The roads can be a dangerous place to be at night.  One must utilize all the daylight available and ride safe.” 

“I wouldn’t worry too much about being attacked while traveling with a caravan as large as ours.  It’s mostly petty thieves looking for a quick steal that make the roads unsafe.  Besides, anywhere the King of Cara goes so does his soldiers.  They are some of the most established fighters in the Realm, so fret not.  It takes about three weeks to get to Idenborough from here and another couple days ride to reach Montanisto.  I’m sure we can utilize this time to get to know one another.”  He glanced over at her for the first time since talking to her.