The Onyx Throne - Book One

They laid Allora down gently inside the door and Mitchell began to scout around for Nothok. Lethelin grabbed the lantern off the peg outside, snuffed it, then closed and latched the door. As Mitchell headed toward the counter and the backroom, she began to scan the items in the shop. Mitchell saw her pick up some sort of digging implement and examine it.

“Don’t steal anything,” he warned her, only half joking. “Nothok is a good guy. Um, a good dwarf, I mean.”

“I wasn’t!” she said defensively as she put the tool back on the shelf. “It’s too rusted anyway.”

When Mitchell got to the counter he saw that something was wrong. There was a large blood stain congealing on the scarred and pitted surface.

“Leth…,” he called out. “I think we have a problem.”

The thief padded up to him silently and saw the crimson pool of blood.

“Not our problem,” she said dryly. “Our blood’s still in our bodies.”

Still, she took out her stiletto and Mitchell readied an arcane missile spell. He could hold it at the ready in the sevith for a short time but the longer he did so the more it would damage the stone so it wasn’t advisable. He creeped forward scanning around until he spotted the body on the ground behind the counter.

“Oh no,” Mitchell said.

A clearly dead Nothok was there lying in a much larger pool of blood. Before they could move behind the counter to investigate, Allora awakened behind them with a cry.

“Mitchell!”

Both he and Lethelin jumped and turned to see the elf sitting up near the door where they’d lain her. He raced back to her, knowing how disorienting it was to wake up after an intense healing.

“I’m here,” he told her, kneeling down beside her. “How are you feeling?”

Her violet eyes struggled to focus on his. The healing had taken a lot out of her. Her cheeks looked a little sunken and she was developing circles around her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“I will be fine.” she said, her voice weak. “How did we get away?”

“Revos showed up,” Mitchell told her.

“Pulled our fish from the fry pan, that’s for sure,” Lethelin added from just behind causing Mitchell to jump. Once again, he hadn’t heard her approach.

Allora swayed and clutched her head.

“Here, eat this,” Lethelin commanded, handing her a wedge of cheese she had pulled from somewhere. “Revos said you would need food.”

Allora looked at it like even the thought of food would make her vomit, but she put it in her mouth anyway and chewed mechanically.

“Nothok is dead,” Mitchell said simply. “I think Dakath killed him to try and slow us down if he didn’t manage to stop us.”

A pained look creased Allora’s face but she nodded.

“His soul is with Denass now,” she said somberly. “May she shelter and keep him.”

“I just hope he got our supplies ready before Dakath found him,” Lethelin said.

Allora made a move to stand and Mitchell helped her up. She swayed, then stumbled into a shelf, but Mitchell held her arm. Lethelin offered up a piece of jerky, almost shoving it in Allora’s mouth.

“Eat,” she said. “Crazy fucking cambion’s orders.”

Allora jerked her head back again with a sour look on her face that confused Mitchell a little bit. When he’d woken up after healing in the wake of his explosion days ago he had been ravenous. Allora seemed repelled by food. She didn’t argue though. Instead, she yanked it from Lethelin’s fingers and shoved it in her mouth, although she looked like she wanted to gag.

“We need to move,” she said after swallowing it down with a swig of water.

“Agreed,” Mitchell responded. “Between the bodies piling up and the big battle in the middle of the street, I think we’ve worn out our welcome in this town.”

Moving slowly with Allora they walked to the back of the shop, stepping behind the counter and examining the poor old dwarf. He could now see what had caused the blood on the counter. The fingers on his left hand were missing, having been chopped off one by one. He had been tortured before his throat was slit. Allora stared at him for a long moment before her eyes shifted to his intact hand which was clutched in a fist.

Prying his hand open she found the small quartz sphere with the six thin lines of gold around it. Allora picked it up almost reverently.

“You kept your honor, good master Nothok,” Allora said to the now-deceased dwarf. “I will carry this with me and present it to a member of your clan when next I meet them. They will know of your strength. Your name will be spoken in the Great Hall and remembered.”

She stood back up and they began to search the shop. They came across another body in the back. A young human boy of maybe fifteen. He’d been stabbed through the heart and left to die. Mitchell remembered Nothok saying he’d have to wake his lad to get their gear together and this was probably him. Mitchell’s anger flared anew at the casual cruelty of the death of a boy whose name he never even knew.

“At least the fucker that did this to you is dead,” Mitchell told the cooling body.

They continued the search. Luckily, Nothok was organized. He had bins in the back where he fulfilled orders. There were pieces of paper with lists of what the customer had requested and a zigzag little line next to some of the items on each. Mitchell figured out that the line meant the item was in the bin while those without the marker were still missing from the order. And there was a bin for a woman named Chell, which was the name Allora had given him. Most of their items had zizzags next to them.

“Excellent,” Allora said as she reached into the bin to grab their new sacks. Instead, her knees buckled and she collapsed into Lethelin who caught her at the last second.

“Stollar’s hairy asshole but you’re heavy,” Lethelin grunted as she staggered under the weight.

Mitchell rushed to help her up, then suddenly remembered the vial. He fished it out of his pocket and gave it to Allora who was standing again but looked like she wanted to pass out.

“Revos said this would help keep you awake long enough for us to get out of town. Drink it.”

Allora’s fingers were cold and clammy when they took the vial and he saw that her brow was covered in sweat.

The elf popped off the cork, sniffed it and recoiled like a hand had reached up from inside the bottle and smacked her.

“It smells like clorvol shit!” she cursed. “I am not drinking that!”

She shoved the vial back to him but he caught her hand and pushed it back gently towards her.

“Please, Lora. We need to get out of here as fast as we can.”

She glared at him but took it and, with a deep inhale, poured the dark brown liquid into her mouth.

She started gagging almost immediately and reached for a water skin to wash it down. After a long pull, she sputtered and shook her head as if she could dispel the foul taste that way. Then her whole body went ramrod straight and she sucked in a deep breath. Her eyes were alert, pupil’s dilated to an almost extreme degree, and he could almost see her heartbeat pounding in her throat.

“Sweet mother…” Allora said in awe. Her voice was strong once more.

“All better?” Lethelin said with a little bit too much sarcasm in her voice than Mitchell thought was necessary. “Great, let’s go.”

They began to move much quicker now that Allora was in better shape. They transferred the things they needed most from their old sacks into the much sturdier and larger sacks that Nothok had provided. There was also a large bag which Allora said contained a small but sturdy tent that would serve them in the mountains. She had requested one big enough for four but now that Revos was not coming, they would have some extra space.

She also lifted out one smaller pack.

“Put any provisions you’re carrying into this one. It’s a dimensional bag. It will hold all the food we need.”

They spent the next few minutes organizing their supplies and distributing weight. After that that they went out back and found the yulops. They were essentially mules to Mitchell’s eye but they had a much shaggier coat and a set of three horns that grew out of their heads. They were thickly muscled and stared impassively at the trio as they approached the stables.

There were seven of the stout creatures in small stables. Some asleep and some that were idly munching feed from a trough. All of them looked at the trio with slightly dull looks on their shaggy faces. Allora went swiftly to each stall examining them and selected two she thought would be the best. She grabbed harnesses from the wall and Mitchell assisted with getting the straps belted around the beasts.. One was out of sorts at having been awakened so early and nipped at Mitchell several times but after some wrangling they were saddled and their packs secured.

As they left the stables, dawn was creeping into the sky and there was the sound of commotion from the front of the shop as people emerged from their homes and saw all the bodies strewn about. Lethelin pulled up the cowl of her cloak and scouted ahead. Once she returned and gave the all clear, they led their beasts through the few remaining back allies and headed towards the mountains. As they crested a small hill about half a mile out of town, the sound of an alarm bell began to ring.

Mitchell stopped suddenly and turned back to look at the sleepy little town. From his vantage point, he could make out the size it used to be, where roads had once stretched farther than their current length, and the depressions in the ground told of buildings that had once stood. He could see people moving in the streets, many of them headed in the direction of the fight. A fight in which he’d killed a man.

A hand touched his shoulder and he turned to see Allora standing there. Her face was unnaturally pale and the shadows under her now-glassy eyes were deeper. It was obvious she needed rest badly.

“Mitchell, we need to keep moving. They may send out a search.”

“I killed a man down there,” he said quietly. “I’ve never killed anyone before.”

“If you had not killed him, he would likely have killed you. Or Dakath would have. Or locked you in mage catchers and brought you to Milandris. You did not have a choice.”

“I know,” he told her.

Mitchell understood the necessity of it. He found he couldn’t quite put into words what he was feeling though. There was a coldness in his stomach. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. And he kept seeing the look of astonishment and fear on the man’s face after the sword was thurst into his stomach.

“The knights have often been called in to conduct trials and executions in some of the smaller villages in Awenor. Villages that don’t have a proper adjudicator or a justicar. While we endeavor not to take life it is understood that sometimes it is necessary.”

Allora paused and followed his gaze down to the town.

“That man chose his path,” she continued. “He was dead the moment he set foot upon it. You were merely the instrument of justice. You brought him to Denass’s judgment. Ultimately, she will weigh the worth of his soul.”

Mitchell looked from the town to Allora and she met his gaze.

“Does it get easier?” he asked her.

She took a deep breath and appeared to consider her words before speaking.

“It should never be easy, Mitchell Allen. You have been called to a great task and you have accepted it but it will not come to you easily. You will have to fight for it if you want it. You will have to fight for the people of Awenor and for Awen herself. You will have to kill for that as well. But as long as you hold firm to the idea that you only kill when it is absolutely necessary, you can feel confident that it was justified.”

“And if I’m wrong and I kill someone when it’s not necessary?” he asked her.

Allora gave him a long look and right as she was about to answer Lethelin’s voice cut through the chill dawn air.

“Hey,” she called about thirty meters up the slope. “If you forgot something back there I think it’s too late to go get it. And this mountain isn’t getting any smaller.”

“She is right,” Allora said and gave him an apologetic smile. “We cannot afford to delay.”

Mitchell nodded and reached for the yulop’s lead as he turned and followed behind Allora. The shaggy pack animal snorted and followed without him having to put much tension on the rope. He already liked it better than the clorvol.

As they walked Mitchell scanned the rising ground ahead of them. Once again, his gaze went up and up and up. Crossing these mountains looked impossible from the base. But he could just make out a trail that wound up between the foothills and into the jagged peaks that speared the sky and Allora said there were many small paths through. The wind whipped at his face and tugged open the fur jacket he was wearing. It was still too warm for it technically but he was assured it would cool quickly once they ascended further.

He started humming the old Marvin Gaye song Ain’t No Mountain High Enough which inadvertently brought a smile to his face. While his parents had been solid Gen Xers, his mom always had a soft spot for Motown. So mixed in with Mudhoney, The Smiths, Mazzy Starr, and the Violent Femmes, were the likes of Marvin Gaye, Bill Withers, Otis Redding, Etta James, and, of course Aretha Franklin. He could remember his mom blasting Ain’t No Mountain and dancing with his dad around the kitchen while everyone laughed. He missed her and her many faded band t-shirts. He missed his dad and his refusal to stop saying words like gnarly and no duh. He even missed his sister and all her New Age spiritualism bullshit. As he began the long, slow climb up this mountain he hoped not for the first time that he could see them again.

The yulop made a small braying sound and, as Mitchell looked at it, he spontaneously decided to name it Marvin. Maybe he would name the other one after Tammi Terrell, who had recorded the song with Gaye. He didn’t know if the other one was male or female, but it didn’t matter.

“Ain’t no mountain high enough, eh Marvin?” Mitchell asked it in English. The animal didn’t respond. Mitchell looked away with a grin and saw Allora about ten meters ahead, picking her way over the rocks in the path, her dark hair blowing behind her like strands of black silk, and her long and powerful legs pushing her steadily forward despite her exhaustion. She was like a force of nature.

“That’s going to keep me from getting to you,” he said, humming to himself.