Martina Mackenzie: The Palace of Glass

By Cori Nicole Smith Wamsley

An Elfin queen’s curse sears through the ages as the secret society that threatens Sheardland’s existence burns to find out what else lies in her tomb. By the end of the tale, Rhihalven, Elves, Fairies, and humans have all become involved as they grapple for control of a key, long-forgotten wisdom, and an ancient secret.

With the discovery of Mr. Willoughby’s diary in this third book of the Martina Mackenzie series, the trio sets off on yet another wild adventure in Sheardland. To find the missing earth key, Martina, Heath, and London disguise themselves as Elfin servants at Womeldorff Castle.
As they piece together clues from the diary and what they learn from fellow servants, they discover a wrongfully accused prisoner about to be executed and determine to help him. Faster than a snarling wild snapdragon, the escape goes awry, leading to an unplanned trip to the famed Forian Tree where Martina runs into a familiar face.
Ancient wrongs rekindle as more tales of Fairies are proven true. Meanwhile, decades of scholarly study pay off for one Elf who unleashes spells that none thought possible to cast. Will the trio find the key before it falls into the wrong hands? Can a curse from long before the elemental laws smolder on forever? Martina, Heath, and London discover more of Sheardland’s secrets as they struggle to continue Mr. Willoughby’s work without getting caught in the inferno.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cori Nicole Smith Wamsley
• Release date: Jan 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301116683

Cori Nicole Smith Wamsley

Cori Wamsley, CEO of Aurora Corialis Publishing, works with business owners who have a transformational story to share to create a legacy and be seen as an expert in their niche.She has 18 years’ experience as a professional writer and editor, including 10 years with the Departments of Energy and Justice and 4 years as the executive editor of Inspiring Lives Magazine. She also wrote seven fiction books, including the children’s book Monkey Mermaid Magic, which she coauthored with her daughter London and also illustrated. She contributed chapters to the anthologies Twenty Won and Living Kindly. Her newest book, Braving the Shore, is her first solo fiction effort since her two daughters were born.When she’s not reading, writing, or working with her clients, she can be found hanging out with her husband and daughters, painting, dancing, singing, baking, or otherwise being creative. She believes that living with one foot in our dreams and the other in the real world is the best way to make magic in our lives and have a lot of fun along the way!Connect with Cori at www.auroracorialispublishing.com, on Instagram at @CoriWamsley_author, or on Pinterest at Braving the Shore.

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Martina Mackenzie

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The Palace of Glass

By Cori Nicole Smith

Martina Mackenzie: The Palace of Glass. Copyright 2012 by Cori Nicole Smith. Smashwords Edition.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, microfilm, recording, or otherwise—without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

For information, address Rinesmith Carothers Publishing House at [e-mail].

Cover art by Liza Phoenix, LizaPhoenix.com

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

Rinesmith Carothers Publishing House, Pittsburgh, PA

For my English teachers and professors: Thank you for encouraging my love of reading, fostering my love of writing, and making sure I knew where to put my commas!

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 – The Heretic Queen’s Tomb

Chapter 2 – Mr. Willoughby’s Diary

Chapter 3 – Beneath Womeldorff

Chapter 4 – Preparing for the Zephyrs

Chapter 5 – Covert Proposal

Chapter 6 – Maid in the Shade

Chapter 7 – The Rhihalva in the Dungeon

Chapter 8 – Behind the Green Glass Door

Chapter 9 – The Grip of Leyfi Veröld

Chapter 10 – Beyond Iredy’s Gate

Chapter 11 – Working Backward from the Gate

Chapter 12 – Dream of the Queen’s Curse

Chapter 13 – Razzlemuth’s Pawn

Chapter 14 – The True Mother

Chapter 15 –Trial by Fire, Death by Light

Chapter 16 – A House in the Emptiness

Chapter 17 – The Empty Glass

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Chapter 1 – The Heretic Queen’s Tomb

It has to be here somewhere. The Elf rubbed the stubble that covered his head as he thought.

Does it not state in the book? the young Rhihalva demanded. He seemed to be growing impatient. Rightfully so, though, for they had been given an important job. They couldn’t fail before beginning the difficult part.

No, I have read it many times, the Elf said. The directions to the tomb translate as ‘Beneath the light of the silvery moon / All the Crystal Forest a-sparkle / Dew drops coat the freshly dug earth / An arrow shot from / The southern tower window of Womeldorff / Strikes northern-most corner of the Tower / Center of the forest and highest point / Keeper of Moasann / Guardian of Elfin majesty. / No path to which in forest lies / No light save moon to guide / Chance encounter will find / Though eyes rarely see the Tower / Those in the Tower see all.. / And beneath, in the bowels / In the tomb of the heretic queen / Lie the queen and her king, / Traitorous sentinels, the Moasann, / And a curse, a deadly curse. / All this within the hexagon / Of the Crystal Hightower.’

Are you sure? the Rhihalva whispered.

The Elf nodded and trudged on. He had spent most of his young life chasing fairy tales. Though most still remained a mystery, his translations were always correct. The uncertainty came from the vague directions themselves, in this case. He had been home-schooled, allowing him more time than most had to attend to scholarly hobbies. Among them was the study of myths and legends of Elfin Nook and the determination to seek out a few he could prove true.

His fascination had led him to his companion, a lesser educated, but equally determined Rhihalva about his age who also had something to gain from this moonlight excursion. Now, the Elf needed to untangle their path and lead them to the Tower.

It began to rain harder. The moon still peeked through the clouds at intervals, allowing just enough light to assure them that they had no idea where they were going.

Afelis, Madoc, the Rhihalva cursed at him. He shifted the shovel from one hand to the other in his impatience. Wandering around all night in the middle of the Crystal Forest was not any Rhihalva’s idea of fun, especially in the rain.

Their progress was already slowed by the slim Elf Madoc, who was carting a rather heavy text and an umbrella. Campaden, however, was a stocky, broad-shouldered Rhihalva and easily handled his shovel along with the added weight of a belt full of tools for their mission: crowbars of different sizes, a hammer, a chisel, and a brush with long wire bristles. The gear clinked softly as he loped along. Both the Elf and the Rhihalva bore the mark.

And Afelis to that book of yours, too. Campaden gritted his teeth. Where did you find that anyway?

It is an ancient text that has been in my family forever. Madoc held it lovingly against his body, as if to protect it. I have studied Aelfgiev for years. My translation has to be right.

Campaden brought the lantern to the Elf’s face. It better be right. If I catch my death from tromping around in an enchanted forest in the rain, I will haunt you for the rest of your life. The Rhihalva paused. What is the deal with this lantern anyway? I could have brought one a lot less bulky and cumbersome.

We Elves have always believed that a lantern must be cut from garnet to keep evil spirits away, Madoc said. This particular lamp belongs to my parents and has an incantation on it form one of the high Elfin priests a thousand years ago. The light will not burn out, as long as the bearer’s task is pure, until the task is ended. He made a sound like he was thinking. I guess as long as the lamp stays lit, then our task is pure as well, he rambled.

Campaden sighed. He lifted the lamp again, causing little rainbows of light to cascade across the ground from the prism effect of the crystal trees. Nothing in the surrounding landscape stood out. Everything was identical. The trees were all equally spaced, and no path traced its way among them. Mile after mile of forest seemed the same, as if they were trapped in a never-ending parade of crystal. Afelis this stupid quest.

The Crystal Hightower is at the highest point in the forest, Madoc reasoned, and we have been heading uphill for a while now. At least we know we are getting closer.

His companion grunted and trudged on.

Time was precious now. If they didn’t hurry, they would not have enough time at the tomb before the sun rose and lit up the forest like the Meallen Festus.

The Elf scurried with him, lugging that enormous volume and his umbrella.

A short time later, the two approached a clearing, and centered on the hilltop was the Crystal Hightower. It seemed even more colossal by the steep assent up the hill to the base of it. The thick crystal structure was hexagonal—which Elves believe to be the most powerful and sturdy shape—and rose to a point several stories above the ground, with a row of windows piercing the top floor. It was carved from the strongest crystal that the Elves could use to derive power for their magic: quartz. The pair stopped at the edge of the wood and stared with reverence.

It is amazing that Elves are able to create buildings like that, Campaden said. What a shame the earth magic was revoked, eh? This and the castle are just exquisite.

With some luck, the Elves should have their earth magic back shortly. Madoc cringed as he thought about how the greatest source of magic that his people had was taken away. He blamed the Rhihalven completely. If the Rhihalven didn’t stick to their ignorant protection of all great and small, then the Elves never would have ended up in Sheardland to begin with. They could have been thriving on the surface in their beautiful crystal cities and glass houses. And they would have been the ones to throw the stones.

Leyfi Veröld is working to remedy the situation. We will prevail, Campaden repeated what he had heard hundreds of times at the meetings. Running away from problems never solves them. It just creates more.

They scuffled up the hill and hid in the shadows of the base. The moon was in their favor, lighting the southern face of the tower whenever it peeked through the cloud-cover. The Elf and the Rhihalva would be working on the northern side in shadow.

The pair crept to the north-facing side of the tower. From that vantage point, Womeldorff Castle, the palace of glass, shone as a bright spot on the horizon in the moonlight. They were both far from home. Madoc knew that one day, Campaden hoped to see all parts of Sheardland while doing the work of Leyfi Veröld, maybe even the inside of Womeldorff Castle. Maybe.

They spoke in barely audible whispers now. The combination of the atmosphere, the seriousness of the task at hand, and the tales that Madoc had read to them out of his book kept them frightened stoic in their task. They worked quickly, with anticipation and fear.

Where did the book say to dig? Campaden held the shovel, ready to begin.

It said that the tomb is on the side that faces north, Madoc began. And we can see Womeldorff Castle, so we are in the right spot. So now . . . He traced the lines in the book, searching for the correct passage.

Campaden pushed the lantern closer to his companion.

Madoc found the spot. It says, ‘Three stones piled hence, one out of place / Between the two finds / One that appears to see / Remove said stones and find / A snake-hole against the tower / Or is it for the blasphemer’s breath? / A rank odor pours outward / The earth here piles over entrance / To keep all in and out, in and out / A door shut for many a year / On the tomb of the heretic queen. He read breathlessly. His hand quivered as it followed the lines in the dim light. The lantern flickered ominously.

Three stones, eh? Campaden rasped. He stepped back a few feet and squinted at the base of the tower.

They both spotted them. On the side facing the castle was a pair of stones against the base and a third, just a short distance from the others and the tower. Campaden squatted beside the pair of stones and moved them aside. Carved on the wall was a detailed picture of a peacock feather. Or, in Sheardland, rather, it would be a validupacis, a large, strong peacock used to pull and fly sleighs and sleds.

‘One that appears to see,’ Madoc repeated softly. He gazed at the eye in the tail feather and then glanced at the ground below it. And there is the hole. This must be where we dig. Though he hardly dared to believe it, the old book had led them to the spot without any difficulty, once they actually reached the Crystal Hightower, of course. What obstacles would appear later, he hardly dared to ponder.

Campaden laid his tool-belt gently on the ground. Some of the crowbars clanked together, and both Campaden and Madoc jumped, alert for the clink of armor in the night.

Campaden began to dig quietly, even dumping the dirt without making much noise. The work was monotonous and painfully slow. Each shovelful from the fissure was placed gently on the ground at the base of the tower. Minutes dragged by.

Madoc passed the time by reading the text in Aelfgiev to himself. Yes, his education was intense, but it would be worthwhile if he could someday call forth the magic of earth to do his bidding. He was a young Elf, still, and power intrigued, delighted, and seduced him.

I see the edge of the doorframe, Campaden eventually said. Soon the top of the door, too, was visible. Next were the intricate runes that had been cut into the surface of the stone door.

Beautiful, Madoc muttered. The runes were muddied but had not lost their sharp lines, having remained unexposed to the winds that were want to rush through Elfin Nook. That is one thing that burial does preserve. Death has no affect on the written word. It actually prevents alteration.

Campaden gave him a strange look and kept digging.

After a long time had passed, and the moon had crept further across the blackened and cloudy sky, Campaden stood within a sizeable hole, looking proudly at the entire exposed door. He had carved steps into the muddy earth to make assent into the tomb easier. Standing back to observe his handiwork, he looked impressed. It was obvious by the perfect squareness of the hole and the cut of the dirt stairs that manual labor appealed to him. He stretched his back and smiled for the first time that night.

Madoc breathed in deeply and let the breath out slowly. He was relieved that they had found the tomb and that the rain had slowed to a mere spritz.

What is the next bit of instruction? Campaden asked.

Madoc again buried his head in the book and read aloud as softly as he could. "‘On this door reads the curse / That upon her deathbed the queen did speak: / Such traitorous sentinels / Kept I and mine / Here in this castle trusted / To those who deserted / I curse you / By the crystals from whence / Energy draws the Elves / And curse any who / Disturb our rest. / Bury us under Crystal Hightower / Facing Womeldorff Castle / To watch over our thrones / And the turncoat seated upon them. / The two of us / The rightful King and Queen, King and Queen / Shall be placed on a dais / In the center of the tomb