The Onyx Throne - Book One

The group awoke early and, though Allora was much recovered, she still looked sickly but assured Mitchell and Lethelin that she was fit to travel. About the night before, nothing was said. The tension was thick over the camp but luckily no one wanted to spare the energy to talk.

Mitchell stared up at the immense mountains before them and couldn’t help but feel daunted by the task. He imagined this must have been what those early settlers of the American West had felt upon approaching the Rockies for the first time. As a modern human, he had never had to deal with actually hiking a mountain range, he would just hop a plane and cruise the skies at 35,000 feet while watching a movie and drinking a Coke. Now, standing at the base of the so-called Skybreaker Peaks, he couldn’t imagine there were actually passes through but the path led upward and onward so it had to come out somewhere.

That first day was mostly quiet. The steady climb meant that they were all a little too winded to talk comfortably so there was only conversation about watching one’s step or which fork to take. There were rudimentary markers at certain junctions and Allora taught Mitchell to read them whenever they came across one in case they were to be separated. He accepted the instruction without comment and she didn’t try to make any conversation beyond that. Lethelin mostly kept to herself although Mitchell saw her glance at the elf more than once with something that looked almost like sympathy.

Allora was steadier on her feet today but she still looked tired. Despite almost ten hours of sleep and plenty of food, the dark circles were still present around her eyes, which still had a glassy quality about them. But she wasn’t stumbling today. Mitchell tried to recall how he’d felt after his first big healing when the cekip had nearly blasted a hole in his head. While he had been a bit groggy the next day, like a mild hangover, he didn’t recall feeling too badly. By lunch, he had mostly recovered. After a short stop for a meal that first day, however, Allora looked slightly worse if that was possible.

“Is something wrong with the food?” Mitchell finally asked her. He’d watched her almost force the dried fruit that often passed for their midday meal into her mouth and it looked like she struggled to keep it down.

Allora looked up at him, her eyes glassy, and seemed like she struggled to focus on him for a moment.

“I… do not seem to have much of an appetite. The food is fine.”

Mitchell, not asking for permission, leaned across and placed his hand on her forehead. He didn’t know if elves got fevers but it felt like the right thing to do. Allora flinched slightly but she didn’t pull away. Instead of her being warm, however, her skin was cool and clammy to the touch.

“Are elves normally cooler than humans?”

“No,” she told him. “In fact, it is the opposite. Our bodies run slightly warmer than yours.”

“Well, you feel cool,” he told her. “I think you’re sick. Should I try my healing spell?”

“That is not necessary. I will be fine.”

“We have a big mountain to climb and you need to be healthy. Let me try. I need the practice, anyway.”

“Very well,” she acquiesced.

Mitchell placed his hand back on her forehead and began to reconstruct the minor healing rune he’d practiced hundreds of times while sitting in the back of the wagon. Healing, like all other spells, could be cast outward from his body and physical touch wasn’t necessary but, for some reason, people preferred the laying-on-of-hands technique. Just like how he didn’t have to point his hand where he wanted his arcane missile spells to go but there was something psychologically satisfying about it.

As he began to push his healing mana into her, he saw her wince. Then she began to shiver. Mitchell started to get the sense that something was wrong but before he could end the spell she groaned and pitched forward, vomiting up the little bit of food she’d managed to eat. Mitchell yanked his hand back, dropped the spell, and stared in confusion.

“I don’t think that’s supposed to happen,” Lethelin said from her seat behind him.

“Something is wrong,” Allora panted, as she spat out the remnants of her stomach.

“What can we do?” he asked her. “If the healing magic doesn’t work, is there something else?”

“Are you sure you did the spell right?” Lethelin asked.

“Yes. I mean, I think so. The rune is pretty simple. It’s only a first circle spell. Revos said it would be good for most minor injuries like cuts and sprains.”

Lethelin got up and moved closer to study Allora who hadn’t sat fully upright yet. She stuck out her hand and Mitchell saw there was a small laceration on the thief’s palm.

“Try this. I cut myself earlier when I slipped on that bit of scree. See if the spell works.”

Allora forced herself up and reached for the waterskin while she watched. Mitchell repeated the process and felt the magic flow from his sevith to Lethelin’s hand and watched as the skin beneath the congealed blood pulled itself shut. Lethelin showed no signs of discomfort. Once it was done she splashed some water on her hand and washed away the flakes of dried blood to reveal fresh pink skin beneath.

“So if it worked for Lethelin, why didn’t it work for you?” Mitchell asked Allora.

“I do not know,” she said.

“What do we do?” Lethelin asked, looking first to Allora, then to Mitchell.

Mitchell frowned and stared up the path at the mountain before them.

“Your friend in Awenor, Gilriel. Do you think she can help with whatever is wrong?”

“Maybe,” Allora said, sounding a little out of breath. “She is old and knows a good deal of magic and herbs.”

“And how long to get to her?”

“Once we are over the mountains, I will be able to say more accurately but… maybe three weeks.”

Mitchell felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Three weeks of hard travel and she was already barely eating. His healing magic didn’t work and Allora didn’t even know what was wrong with her. Lethelin was looking at him expectantly.

“All we can do is keep going,” he said at last. Looking to Allora, he continued. “We’ll take more breaks so you can rest. And eat as much as you can. I know it tastes bad but you need your strength. We’ll make it.”

Lethelin gave him a nod and kneeled down in front of Allora.

“Are you okay to keep going or do you need more rest?”

Her voice had an unexpected note of concern for the paladin. It surprised Mitchell.

Allora also seemed startled by the show of concern but recovered quickly and gave a weak smile.

“Believe it or not, I feel mostly okay. Just a little tired. I can walk. We should push on.”

As she stood, Mitchell reached for her pack. She tried to object but he overrode her and tied it to Marvin. The placid beast looked mildly reproachful at the new weight but it would survive.

Then, concern for Allora like a rock in his gut, they continued up the path.

***

The next day they found signs of dire wolves. It started with the yulops behaving more skittishly and then Lethelin spotted a mostly eaten carcass of what was probably a cousin to Tammi and Marvin. Allora, having more experience in the wilds than a city girl like Lethelin said the kill was maybe three days old.

“Dire wolves are large, maybe as large as a yulop but much more powerful,” Allora explained. “They hunt the lower slopes, primarily. They typically travel in packs of four or five and will attack small groups of two or three, preferring to keep superior numbers.”

“So we should expect to be targeted?” Mitchell asked her.

“Almost certainly. The three of us, plus the yulops, will prove too much of a temptation, I am sure. But while they are cunning and excellent climbers, they fear fire.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Mitchell said. “Do we have any fire?”

“Check your spell book. I believe there is a second circle spell called fire bolt. You should begin to practice it. It is slightly more powerful than your arcane missile spell and has a chance to set a target on fire. If you can burn a few of the wolves as they begin their attack, the rest may flee.”

“Stollar’s balls,” Lethelin swore and glanced nervously up at the rocks around them.

“Didn’t you have to deal with that on your way into Iletish?” Mitchell asked her.

“I traveled with a caravan over the southern road,” she explained. “I was tracking Ivaran. I wasn’t fool enough to cross the mountains and I expected to travel back to Awenor the same way I came.”

“The dire wolves are not the biggest threat, Allora said. “As long as we stay alert, especially after dark, we should be able to fend them off. As we go higher, we will have to contend with the shadow cats and then the razor beaks.”

“Balls and hairy taint!” Lethelin cursed. “That’s just what I get for leaving the city.”

“Are those bad?” Mitchell asked, a little shocked by the intensity of Lethelin’s invective.

“The shadow cats are the reason the wolves don’t venture very high into the mountains,” Allora nodded as she explained. “They are ferocious predators. Full grown ones can be as intelligent as a person in their own way. Some grow as long as three meters and nearly as tall. They are also magical and have the ability to disguise their true location.”

“You think they’re coming at you from one direction but really they’re behind you!” Lethelin said. “I saw one once at a high sun festival when I was a girl. It was pitted against two giant scorpions in the arena. I had nightmares for a week.”

“Lethelin is correct,” Allora said. “Full-grown males are large enough to take down a clorvol. They are nocturnal, relying on the darkness to mask their presence and illusion to confuse their prey.”

“Don’t forget about their tentacles!” Lethelin said sardonically. “And they have six legs! Six! They’re like something that crawled up out of the Nine Hells!”

“More than likely they came from the Fey Lands,” Allora corrected. “But yes, their preferred method of attack is to distract you, then use their barbed tentacles to grab you, pull you off balance, then pounce and gut you.”

The clorvol that had pulled them through the desert had been nearly twelve feet long and almost half as wide. It’s jaws could nearly swallow a man whole and its hide had been almost as hard as stone. Mitchell didn’t want to think about something that could take one of them out.

“A light spell or a good torch is usually enough to reveal the illusion,” Allora added as if she was trying to offer comfort. “The illusion will cast no shadow. But you might only have seconds to cast it before the cat strikes. And they are solo hunters so we will only likely have to deal with one at a time.

Mitchell was almost afraid to ask, but he did anyway. “And the razor beaks?”

“Large flying creatures. They have the head and wings of a bird of prey but the lower body of a cat. Their claws can shred stone as easily as flesh and their beaks can punch through steel plate armor like it was paper. They can carry off a fully-grown man or a jivi with little difficulty. And they are quite fond of feasting on shadow cats. They prefer to swoop in on prey and drag it back up into the sky. Sometimes they will drop their catch on the rocks to finish the job. They are somewhat awkward on the ground. As long as we keep our eyes on the sky when we are in the higher passes, we should be alright.

“Fucking hell,” Mitchell muttered in English. Then, switching back to Common, he asked. “Death from the shadows or death from above. Is there anything here that won’t try to kill us and eat us?”

Allora thought for a minute, then scratched Tammi’s chin, which earned an appreciative chuffing sound from the beast. “The yulops,” she added with a small grin which looked a little ghostly on her pale face.

“Stollar’s hairy asshole,” Mitchell muttered, before thinking about it. Allora, having already heard him curse once, only chuckled but it took a good two or three minutes for Lethelin to stop laughing.

That bit of levity was the last one they would have for several days.