Azariyah, A World Whisperer Novella

By Rachel Ford and Rachel Devenish Ford

She is the stolen queen. 

 

Azariyah, Queen of the Maweel, wakes up to find herself a captive, separated from her magic and away from everyone she loves—until she realizes her captors have taken her young daughter, Amani, too. 

 

Alone among her enemies, she must use everything within her to resist the forces that have captured her and fight for survival, both for Amani and for herself.

 

A deeply moving and hopeful story, Azariyah is a 25,000-word prequel novella about Isika's grandmother, queen of the Maweel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Small Seed Press
• Release date: Jun 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393401926

Book preview

Chapter 1

Queen Azariyah woke slowly, with a foul taste in her mouth and a sharp pain in her head. She had trouble opening her eyes. When she reached up to touch her aching head, she found that her eyelids were swollen and crusted shut. Her tongue felt thick, and her mouth was as dry as a desert. What under Nenyi's skies? Was she sick? 

She turned over carefully, stifling a groan. Then she froze. This was not her bed at the palace. These were not her soft sheets, her pillows. She patted her surroundings with one hand. She was lying on some kind of thin mat. Under the mat were little humps and divots that were unmistakably sand. Azariyah's breath left her in a rush.

She could hear men speaking in muffled tones somewhere nearby. Their rolling voices were unfamiliar, accents that were distinctly different from that of her people. From the murmuring, she recognized occasional words. She thought the men were from this side of the sea, not the continent across the sea, where the people spoke a dialect that was harder to understand.

But Azariyah knew that last night when she went to bed, no one near her had spoken with such an accent. She was not in her city. She was somewhere lying on a mat on the sand, in a place she should not be, and she still could not open her eyes. 

Azariyah's heart began to pound in a panicked rhythm. For a moment, she couldn't breathe, and she thought she would choke on fear, but she balled her hands into fists and forced herself to calm down. She bit her tongue hard, and suddenly her breath came back. Azariyah gained control over the blazing fear, but her thoughts were still coming slowly, too slowly. What was this pain in her head? 

Think, Riyah! she told herself.

She should be asleep in her room in the palace, her husband beside her, Amani asleep on the other—Amani! Azariyah sat bolt upright, forced her eyes open, and looked around wildly. It was dark. The air was an inky black. She couldn't see a thing, and when she tried to move, she discovered that her legs were bound with thick rope. What? What had happened? Where was Amani? A sob escaped her, and as the noise echoed in the space she couldn't see, she heard a rustle from somewhere beside her. Azariyah froze, terror battering at her mind again, forcing herself to investigate the sound. Her hand patted around on empty cushions until finally, she felt a tiny hand. 

The little hand flexed unconsciously and grabbed onto her fingers. Amani! Azariyah shifted until she was close to her daughter. She lay down again as she breathed in the sweet smell of her child, kissing the little face all over. Amani murmured in her sleep, so Azariyah stopped, not wanting to wake the tiny girl, only a year and a half old.

She stared into the darkness. If Amani was here, did that mean Simos was here too? Again, Azariyah reached out, patting the area all around her, but though she found the edge of the sleeping mat, she didn't find her husband. Another sharp sob escaped her, and she bit down on her lip hard to keep quiet. She wasn't ready to meet the men who were talking nearby. Their murmuring went on, too soft for her to understand what they were saying, but loud enough to catch individual words every so often. Sleeping… soon… escape… near… long…

Azariyah, think! she told herself again. What happened? Why can't you remember?

She reached into her memory, straining to find the last moments she recalled. Yesterday—was it yesterday?—had been beautiful; one of the early days of the cool season, crisp and fresh after the humid rainy season. The rains had stopped, and the whole world was green and shining. Azariyah and Simos left Amani with Simos's mother back at the palace and took the horses out to greet the world. The sky had been so blue, clouds like flowers scattered into the distance. They raced the horses down the dirt road, and Azariyah felt as though she was filled with light, sensing the coursing energy of all of creation. She could feel the way Nenyi, the Uncreated One, touched and encompassed it all. Nenyi felt close, as though Azariyah was not merely the conduit of Nenyi's love and power, but the target. 

And Simos, handsome and tall on his horse, had caught at her heart. They dismounted and sat by the river, holding hands and talking over the small things they needed to do, murmuring at the colorful fish that swarmed around their feet in the water. She had kissed him, overcome with love for him, and finally, they rose to return to the palace, called back to duty by the sun climbing across the sky.

That was all she could remember. She dug deeper. No, there was more. A shift in the air as they returned to the palace. Azariyah had reached for her circlet as it gave a tiny flash of heat. Her staff leaned beside her throne, glowing dully. She felt itchy; something was off. It wasn't a strong feeling, like an attack poison. As queen, Azariyah could identify most poison from the Great Waste. She put a lot of effort into fighting off the Desert King, who continued to try to encroach on their lands. This was different, though, and the off-ness teased at her. She paused and frowned as she settled on her throne. Simos knew by her face that something was wrong.

What is it, Riyah? he had asked. 

I don't know, she told him, gazing up at the high arches of the room as though she could find an answer there. Something is… I don't know how to describe it. It's like poison, but it… oozes. It is strange to me. I don't recognize it.

A nurse brought Amani to her, and Azariyah kissed and nursed her baby, before sending her back to Simos's mother so she could hear petitions, as she did every day. Petitions was the time for people to come to their queen for help with all their disagreements and problems. The requests were rarely difficult to answer unless the Desert King was causing problems. Maween was a stable and good land; abundant and protected by herself: Azariyah, queen of the Maweel, the World Whisperer who connected her people to the Shaper, the Uncreated One. 

Azariyah was lit from within by her connection to the Shaper. The queen's magic held her people in the circle of the light of Nenyi, who was neither male nor female, not a person or tree or animal, above all and different from all.

Azariyah was joined for Petitions by some of the elders. There was Zibel, her dearest friend and neighbor in the palace, and Ephad with his son, Ivram. Ivram was training to replace Ephad when he retired as elder. Ephad had been an elder since Azariyah's father was king. Ivram was only a teenager, but he was already wise. Azariyah smiled at him.

Hello, friends, Azariyah greeted the other elders. Happy cool-season day. 

She was met by a dazzling smile from Zibel and a quirked eyebrow from Ephad. 

Is it a new holiday you've given us, Lady? Ephad asked.

Hmmm, should I? she asked with a smile. No, it's just that the air is so clear, not wet, not hot. Don't you feel it? Like the Shaper has blown the heat away.

I'm sure the gatherers and their knowledge can explain it better than that, Zibel said. But how sweet that you love it so much. 

Simos and I spent the morning riding around in this clean air. 

At Simos's