“Good,” Evangeline said. “Now that we’re all on the same page, you two are dismissed. If you need anything further, I’ll be in my chambers.” Talan and Brutus both stood up and gave the Queen a bow before exiting the council chambers, leaving the Queen to her own thoughts.
***
Outside the council room, Mizra was finally awake and stirring with activity. Morning sunlight beamed through the open corridors, not yet warm enough to ward off the chill of the night. The council room was only one level up from the ground floor, and Talan could see the beauty of Mizra’s blooming gardens below him as he looked out of the window. The displays of jessamine, purple wisteria, and white gardenias glimmered like diamond rings as sunlight reflected off of the dewdrops still clinging to their petals. Brutus stood next to him, also admiring the springtime view as if he’d never seen it before. Talan cleared his throat.
“Brutus, I have several, hand drawn maps of the mines up in my chambers. I’d like to go over them with you and help create a plan of attack that will work best for the Guard.”
He waited a second while Brutus still stared out of the window, his eyes unmoving and focused on something in the distance, unresponsive to Talan’s suggestion. The younger man reached up and gingerly touched his shoulder to get his attention.
“Brutus?” he said. The General suddenly startled, shaking Talan off him as if he was a venomous spider.
“Whoa!” Talan cried out as Brutus thrashed at him. “Calm down! I didn’t mean anything by it!” Brutus was breathing heavily and sweat pebbled his forehead, although it was chilly in the hallway. His faraway eyes suddenly focused on Talan.
“Forgive me, old friend,” his voice rasped. “I’m not myself today.”
“Obviously,” Talan replied sardonically.
The young man paused, then looked around to see if anyone was in earshot before bending into Brutus and whispering, “Where exactly have you been for the last month, because I know you weren’t in Rienne. I looked into it.” He leaned back up and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops, glaring at Brutus the whole time.
“Where are Ambrose and Arvil?” Talan demanded when Brutus didn’t say anything in return. “Everything changed after I got that blasted note following Zora’s engagement celebration. I want to know what’s going on!”
Sweat dripped down the sides of Brutus’s face newly skeletal face as Talan questioned him, and his yellowing eyes also surveyed their surrounding.
“Ok,” he responded meekly, as if Talan was forcing him into a confession. “I’ll tell you, but not here.”
***
Shortly after, Brutus was occupying Talan’s tastefully decorated chambers, watching as the miner rummaged through mountains of paperwork on his desk, trying to locate the maps he’d promised him. All of the documents were withered and covered with dirty handprints; residue from the viscous mine dust that Talan always brought home with him. Despite how eager Talan was to learn about the events that had transpired after Zora’s celebration, Samaria was still under threat of attack, and both men had been assigned pivotal parts to play in a battle that could not be postponed.
“Here we are,” Talan said, pulling out four neatly folded maps that outlined all the underground mines in the north, south, east, and west sections of the Anion Mountains.
“But first things first.” He placed the maps on the already teetering pile of paperwork and patted them securely before taking a seat across from Brutus. The General looked uncomfortable as he fussed with the fraying thread of the Samarian emblem embroidered on his tunic.
“I want to know what really happened,” Talan demanded. “Advisors to the Queen don’t just disappear.” Brutus stopped fidgeting and looked up at him painfully. “I promise I won’t repeat anything I hear,” Talan prompted.
“Fine,” Brutus replied grudgingly then gave a big sigh as he began retelling the events that had occurred after Zora’s marriage celebration.
“What did Arvil think about all of this?” Talan asked when Brutus was done. The General gave a small shrug.
“Arvil has no spine, you know that. He sways whichever way the wind blows. Apparently, he and Ambrose had been meeting for quite some time about this. They’d come to the decision that Samaria would be better off if Evangeline was removed from the throne entirely and replaced with Zora. They believed Evangeline’s poor decisions were driving a once flourishing country into the ground, and in truth she is.”
“I didn’t know it had gotten that serious,” Talan admitted in surprise. “What plan did Ambrose have that would take Evangeline off the throne.” Brutus looked away from him and exhaled a shaky breath.
“He asked me to have her murdered. And then told me how to cover it up so no one would suspect her personal advisors.”
“He was going to have the Queen killed!” Talan exclaimed, and Brutus only nodded. “Holy Divinity!” the young advisor muttered to himself. “I never would’ve thought Ambrose would go that far.”
“You didn’t know Ambrose as long as I did,” Brutus said grimly. “He was very smart and very rich. He cashed in at the time when Samarian diamonds were at their greatest demand across the Realm some decades ago. He made a lot of money trading Samarian commodities, so you can guess how hard it hit his pockets when the mines began faltering.”
“So you think that Ambrose wanted the Queen dethroned to protect his own personal interest?” Talan speculated. “Because he thought that Queen Evangeline was running Samaria economically into the ground, and that in turn affected his own wealth?” Brutus shrugged again.
“I don’t know if that’s what he really thought, but it seemed like him wanting to put a young, easily malleable princess such as Zora on the throne would be more beneficial to him. I guarantee that’s what Evangeline thought when she intercepted his letter to Rienne. The Queen is unfailingly proud and wouldn’t appreciate being displayed as a fool, and that’s exactly what Ambrose’s letter would do to her.” The General let his voice trail off as he broke eye contact with Talan and looked out the window.
“Ambrose is dead,” he stated.
“I had a feeling,” Talan replied gently. “Vincent claimed he died of a fever, but I never believed it. Did you have anything to do with his death?”
“No!” Brutus yelled, his head snapping back around looking horrified. “I’d never hurt any of my fellow advisors.” He gulped hard and a sickly color overcame his already greyish complexion.
“The Queen intercepted Ambrose’s letter to Leonardo. In her rage she had his throat slit by my own soldiers. She killed him claiming treason then had Arvil and myself imprisoned with threats that we’d face the same end if we followed in his footsteps. The only reason she had me released was because she needs a competent General to lead her men into war.”
“Is Arvil still alive?” Talan asked. While he never liked the small, two-faced man, he didn’t want to see Arvil needlessly murdered by an arrogant and angry Queen.
“I’m not positive, but I think so,” Brutus replied hopefully. “The Queen had us held in separate cells, but I could hear the Guards blathering about us as they changed shifts daily. I never heard anyone being removed from holding.” Brutus looked away again, and his neutral expression darkened. “All that doesn’t even matter. I think that the Queen’s actions towards us may have been in vain.
“What do you mean?” Talan asked.
“I’m positive a page of Ambrose’s letter passed underneath the Queen’s nose unnoticed, so I’m thinking that the messenger may have gotten out with the most important part of it, and he’s on the way right now to Rienne.”
“So knowledge of Samaria’s current state of crisis has been dispelled to Rienne despite the Queen’s violent attempts to hide it?”
Suddenly, Talan remembered the promise he’d made Zora before she left for Montanisto.
Watch over Samaria for me. Be my eyes and ears, for I fear for my country’s future.
“We have to get Arvil out of the gallows,” Talan
suddenly asserted. “You and I both know that Samaria will not survive a battle with the Nomans, therefore it’s imperative we enlist the help of Leonardo Santini. Considering that Arvil has already fallen out of the Queen’s graces, I think it’s best if we send him and not put anyone else in danger of being accused of treason. Samaria will be under Noman rule if we don’t seek help from the Sovereign Alliance. There is no way the Samarian Guard alone can defeat and drive back the Noman army, at least that’s how the Queen describes it.”
“Leonardo won’t come,” Brutus interrupted bitterly. “He has no compassion for a Queen who has no compassion for anyone else. We denied him when he needed us most. He will most certainly return the deed.” Talan looked at Brutus long and hard before speaking.
“He will come, but only if we convince him that once this war is over, Evangeline will no longer be in power. I think Ambrose was on to something when he suggested we put Zora on the throne, and I think the Sovereign Alliance will help us assure that happens.”
Brutus looked down at his hands again and began twisting the ring he always wore on his index finger. “Death and murder are a part of battle,” he said, “so whose to say a Queen cannot succumb to it as well.” He peeked up at Talan. “How are we going to release Arvil?”
“It will be easiest if I do it,” Talan determined. “I’ll be spending a lot of time down in the mines preparing the detonations, so it will be easy to take a detour over to the prison. All of the Guard is being called away to bulk up the border, so the inmates will likely be left unguarded. At least temporarily.”
Brutus didn’t say anything for a while. He continued to rotate the ring on his finger engraved with six small diamonds arranged in a circle that represented his rank as General. Finally, he stopped.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked Talan. “You’ve found favor in the Queen’s eye. I just want you to know what you are getting yourself into. It’s bloody near impossible to contain the Queen’s wrath once it’s unleashed. Now that you know the truth about Ambrose…”
“I’m sure about all of this,” Talan responded confidently. “And like you said, the Queen trusts me. I have no intention of betraying the responsibilities she’s given me.” Brutus’s worried expression slightly softened at Talan’s promise.
“Now,” Talan said to the General, “enough talk about committing treason. We have a war to win.”
Chapter 21
Talan had never visited the isolated dungeons built underneath Mizra’s main level before; there was never a reason for him to. Yet he knew about their existence and had an idea of their location based on its proximity to the miner’s entrance located at the back of the fortress. Therefore, the young man ghosted quietly about Mizra’s corridors as he traveled to the dungeons in secret, slinking into shadows and avoiding facial recognition when he passed a group of servants going about their business.
The fortress was eerily quiet for a midmorning with only the padding of his feet along the stone floor to remind him he was still moving along. His prediction regarding the absence of Samarian Guards inside Mizra had proven correct. The man only encountered two corporals, fully garbed in battle armor, on their way to meet up with the remainder of the recruited army being mustered in the city by Vincent. Even the servants were mellow and subdued. Although Queen Evangeline hadn’t yet revealed to the Samarian citizens their impending plight, all the people of Mizra knew something was brewing, and it quelled their spirits.
After his meeting with Brutus, Talan had called on Salem, his assistant down in the mines, to have the youth begin altering his fire powder amalgam to the specifications laid forth by the Queen. Salem had been helping him with the experimentation of the fire powder since its inception, and he was the only person other than Talan who knew how to use it. Following his meeting with Arvil in the dungeons, Talan was going to meet up with Salem to finish the changes to the fire powder as was needed.
By now, Talan had traveled several stories below Mizra’s ground level, down four flights of winding stairs that ran into a steep, declining path. The small flaming torch he held in front of him hardly broke through the impregnable darkness of the caverns, but he pushed forward until the ground finally leveled out and he could see a faint light at the end of the arched hallway he was traveling through. The ceiling of the dungeons seemed to press down on him, and the air was wet and musty, as if all the moisture from the gushing underground springs had been deposited into this one small space, growing moldy and rank over time.
As Talan drew closer to the dungeons, he noticed a Samarian Guard sat slumped against the wall with his chin tucked into his chest. Small snores came from the man’s mouth as he dozed peacefully in the dimness. Talan stealthily maneuvered over to him, not sure how deep his sleep was, till he was towering over the motionless man who reeked of sour ale. A wineskin was grasped firmly in his hand, evidence of his obvious state of intoxication. Talan nudged the man’s foot to observe exactly how drunk this Guard was and was pleased when his extremity just fell limply to the side.
Talan bit his lip uncertainly as he looked around. Cells lined both sides of the narrow corridor that ran so far back Talan couldn’t tell where it ended. The ceiling seemed to drop lower the deeper he went into the mountain until he almost had to walk stooped over. Flame lights hung from iron fixtures built into the ceiling, but the fire’s weak light still left the interior of the cells bathed in darkness.
“Arvil?” Talan called out in a hoarse whisper as he peeped into the first set of cells. “Arvil, are you here?”
There was no answer, only the scream of deafening silence. He continued along the shrinking hallway, waving his torch in front of the grimy bars to see the emptiness inside. Twice he encountered prisoners whose eyes peered back at him, glowing like a cat caught unexpectedly in the light. They repositioned themselves on their lice infested beds and threw curses in Talan’s direction about being awoken. Samaria wasn’t known as a country that harbored prisoners for a long time. Defilers of the law were usually dealt with immediately and fairly, the worst offenders being sentenced to death immediately after being convicted.
About ten cells down, Talan could make out the crumpled form of another inmate hovering in the corner. His heart skipped a beat.
“Arvil?” Talan asked hopefully. He placed a hand on the thick iron bars covered in decades of rust and squinted into the darkness. Suddenly, the image of a ragged Arvil Pennington appeared before him behind the bars. He was covered in filth from head to toe, and a month’s worth of facial hair covered his mousy face. His small frame seemed thinner, and he looked at Talan with the same sickly yellow eyes that Brutus had. The small man stank of vile body odor and putrefying chamber pots left rotting somewhere in the cell.
“Talan?” he whispered in a scratchy voice, as if he hadn’t spoken in years. “Is it really you?” He shook his head and rubbed his eyes as if he was seeing a ghost. “What are you doing here? How did you know where I was?”
“There is no time for a hundred questions, my friend,” Talan replied hastily, glancing back at the snoozing Guard. “I am simply here to release you. The Nomans are on their way to invade Samaria, and the Queen has lost her bloody head. We need your help, desperately.” Arvil grasped the bars invading the space between the two men and wrapped his hands around them.
“Has…has Brutus been released as well?” he questioned timidly, unsure of how much Talan knew about what had gone on between the other advisors.
“Aye,” Talan confirmed. “I don’t know when exactly, but it appears as though the Queen has returned him to his former position, probably because she needs him to fight more than she needs to forgive him for conspiring with you and Master Cornwell.”
Talan quickly addressed Arvil’s confusion by recounting all the events that had transpired during his term of imprisonment, including Talan’s collusion with Brutus to have him run to Chancellor Leonardo Santini in order to seek additional support.
“So you know about A
mbrose then?” Arvil asked cautiously. Talan nodded gravely and watched as tears suddenly pooled in the disloyal advisor’s eyes, both for the death of his friend and for his own betrayal towards him.
“He was right, you know, about everything,” Arvil muttered. “He tried to warn the Queen about dealing with tyrants, but she wouldn’t listen. And now…” His voice trailed off as he brought the heels of his hands to his face. “And now look at the position we’re in.” Talan took this opportunity to take advantage of Arvil’s feelings of regret.
“So you’ll do it then?” he asked. “Ride to Rienne and seek out Leonardo’s aid?” Arvil nodded behind his hands.
“How much time do I have?” he asked.
“Two days. Maybe less if you’re persuasive enough. The Queen estimates four days before the Nomans reach the valley, considering how much time it takes an army of such numbers to march through the mountains. Plus, she’d already got the Guard bulked up along the border who can hold them back temporarily.”
“I’ll do it,” he answered weakly, “For Ambrose. Plus, I want to be as far away from here as possible when those blasted Nomans step foot onto our land.” He wrinkled his face in disgust. “They are downright blood hungry savages.”
Talan frowned to himself. Always a spineless coward, he thought bleakly, not even brave enough to stand up for your country and fight for what is right. Hopefully you’ll be able to complete this one task successfully; the future of Samaria depends on it.
“Do you have a plan on getting me out of here,” Arvil asked, “because the keys are kept by the Guards, and I’d try to avoid waking the drunkard over there.” He nodded towards the Guard still slumped against the wall. “He’s more apt than he appears.”
Talan smiled cunningly at the wiry man who now had his dirty face pressed up against the bars, examining Talan’s person for any evidence of a tool to break him free from his prison.
“Are you bound?” Talan inquired. Arvil shook his head and held up his wrists to show that he was no longer shackled to the wall in chains.
Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) Page 34