The Onyx Throne - Book One

“That will have to do,” Mitchell said with a grunt as he tied the last strap securing the makeshift sled to Marvin’s harness. The normally placid animal gave him a baleful stare as it shifted under the new weight. Tammi, seemingly also disturbed by this new development, bleated in a way that almost sounded sympathetic. Then she nuzzled Marvin, who commiserated with her.

Both of them then looked at their owner like it was all his fault. These beasts were entirely too intelligent for Mitchell’s liking and it was starting to freak him out a little.

“Will that hold her?” Lethelin inquired from behind him.

Mitchell turned to see her at the cave mouth, the last of their packs in hand. The cold morning gusts from the overcast sky whipped her shoulder-length ginger hair around her head and made it look like those blood-red curls had a life of their own.

He went up to her and relieved her of one of the heavier packs, and slipped his arms through the straps while examining his handiwork.

The pull-sled was affixed to Marvin’s harness just behind his front shoulders. It had taken him the better part of a day to scavenge suitable wood to build it in this rocky terrain plus a few hours more trying to remember how to build it. His Cub Scouting days were far behind him, but in the end, he’d recalled some of the hazy survival lessons he’d learned on those weekend camping trips with Troop 506 about how to get a wounded friend out of the wilderness.

The sled consisted of two poles about three-and-a-half meters long that had been laid across each other to form an ‘X’ with another lashed to the bottom to brace it, creating a triangle on the lower portion of the frame. Then a series of smaller poles had been lashed at even intervals across until reaching the center. The top of the ‘X’, the open triangle, had been secured to Marvin’s harness and an unconscious Allora lay unmoving upon it.

“It should,” he told her. “It’s a simple but sturdy device. Depending on how bad the trail gets, I may have to carry her through some of it. But the sled can bear it. I’m more worried about Marvin. He doesn’t seem to like the weight too much.”

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” she said with a small laugh. “He might complain, but yulops are strong. I could hop on that thing with her and he would barely notice.”

Mitchell eyed she donkey-sized creature uncertainly.

“They don’t look that tough.”

Lethelin walked over to Marvin and scratched him behind the ears, which the animal leaned into.

“You’ll be fine, won’t you, Mal-bin?” she asked the pack animal with a saccharine tone. “Even if the big foreigner gave you a weird name.”

Lethlin had trouble pronouncing the English ‘R’ and ‘V’ sound. Mitchell noticed that Allora had shown the same difficulty.

“There’s nothing wrong with Marvin’s name,” he said defensively. “It fits him.”

Lethelin didn’t reply but gave him one of her playful smiles. However, her grin dropped away as she went to the back of the pull-sled and checked over Allora once more.

Allora had all the extra blankets tied around her to keep her warm and cushion her body against the poles. She looked like a mummy, with just her pale face exposed to the air. Her breaths were quick and shallow and her skin had an almost glassy sheen to it. Her eyes had almost completely faded of their color and her pupils were contracted to little more than pin pricks. Nothing they’d done to try and rouse her worked. Her body went from freezing cold to burning up at random times. The stones in her krisa flickered occasionally although no spells manifested. All they could do was get her to swallow water. That reflex seemed to work but there was no getting food down her throat.

Mitchell felt a spine-chilling spike of fear seeing her tied and helpless as a babe. He had to find a way to save her. He couldn’t lose her now. Not after they’d gone through so much. And then there was Lethelin to think of. She’d hitched her wagon to his, had sworn an oath to help him fulfill his mission and that responsibility was resting heavier on his shoulders every day. He was totally out of his depth on this but didn’t see any way free of it. It had been something of a shock for him to realize how much he’d been relying on Allora’s strength up to now. Her granite-hard will, her complete faith in her mission, had kept him going. Now that she was essentially an invalid, Lethelin was looking to him to lead them and Mitchell had to find a way.

Up to this point in his life, he’d never lead anything more crucial than planning meetings and the occasional weekend getaway with his friends. Now he was in a strange world crossing a mountain range with an unconscious elf and a human assassin trying to make it to a magical land where he was supposed to be king. They didn’t cover this when he was getting his certifications in Google Data Analytics. Like it or not, though, the task was his. If Mitchell didn’t find a way, then they were all going to die.

“Are you ready?”

Lethelin straightened after pouring a little bit of water into Allora’s mouth. She looked forward up the narrow path that twisted out of sight around forty meters up the slope.

“What was it you said,” she asked him, “about a foot getting you where you're going?”

“One foot in front of the other gets you where you're going,” he told her, repeating the old aphorism he’d picked up from a book when he was a kid.

Mitchell was suddenly glad his parents hadn’t let him have a smartphone until he was seventeen. He had a lot of information to draw from thanks to all the books he’d read growing up.

“Yeah, that one,” she replied, looking back at him. “People in Varset usually say, ‘The fish isn’t going to hook itself’. Same meaning, I think.”

Mitchell chuckled.

“Yeah, sounds close enough.”

Lethelin looped Marvin’s lead in her hand and began to walk, the yulop following her with only a mild grunt at the new weight. As Lethelin had said, he didn’t seem to be struggling with it at all.

Mitchell gave Tammi a wry look.

“Was he faking the whole time?” he asked the placid female.

She looked up at him, and he could swear he saw amusement in the animal’s deep brown eyes.

“Cheeky fucker,” he said, laughing to himself as he began to follow.

***

The next two days were grueling. As the path became more treacherous, they had to go slower to navigate with the pull-sled. This cost them time they didn’t have. The temperature dropped significantly and the air became thinner. As a result, both Mitchell and Lethelin got more winded which hampered them further. The only good thing was that the dire wolves had learned to leave them alone. They suffered one more attack the third night where they had killed two more and wounded one seriously but they animals didn’t return the next day.

There was little talk in the camp at night. Both of them were too tired. Meals were a mechanical affair that needed to be done before they could sleep. The tent became necessary as the weather grew too cold to sleep exposed to the air. Only the yulops seemed unaffected.

Mitchell came up with the idea to mash some of their vegetables into the water they were able to get Allora to drink, to make a somewhat lumpy broth. Lethelin had made a face but it had worked. They’d managed to get some calories into Allora which seemed to help.

That fifth night, while Mitchell was on watch, he heard a noise behind him and turned to see Allora sitting up, her eyes open and silvery white. All color had long faded from them. Her face was as pale as bone china, the veins in her cheeks a web of faded blue lines. Her once luscious lips were thin and hard now, the color gone. She was thin to the point of emaciation.

“Allora!” Mitchell exclaimed. “You’re awake!”

She didn’t respond. She didn’t move at all, simply stared at nothing.

Mitchell crawled to her and reached out to check her temperature. He didn’t know what else to do. But before his hands reached forehead, she seized his wrist in a grip like iron. She’d moved faster than he could see. Where her skin touched his he felt an icy chill begin to spread. He tried to pull away but she held him fast.

Suddenly, Allora inhaled sharply and her body shuddered in what Mitchell could only describe as ecstasy.

“Moooore,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Need moooorrrrrre!”

“Lora what are you–?” Mitchell began to say before her other hand reached up grabbed the back of his neck. That icy chill began to spread down his neck.

“Allora let me go!”

Mitchell strained against her grip but she was shockingly strong.

“I neeeed it, Mitchell!” Allora begged, her voice high and raspy as she pleaded. “I neeeeeed mooooooooore!”

The cold was entering his chest now, and something deep inside warned him of danger. She was pulling something out of him.

“Lethelin!” Mitchell screamed as he tried to pull away. Allora clutched at him hungrily, color finally returning to her eyes as she sucked life from him.

“Give me moooore!”

The thief came awake almost instantly and had her knife in hand as she sat up, looking to the walls of the tent for danger. Unfortunately, the danger was inside.

“Help me!” Mitchell called out. “Get her off me!”

Mitchell was getting weaker as Allora drained him. The cold was sapping his strength and he could feel himself getting tired. Part of him wanted to give up and let her take him. It whispered to him that he should just lay down and rest.

“Stollar’s taint!” Lethelin cried as she went over to grab Allora and try to pull her off Mitchell.

Between the two of them they got Allora’s hand off the back of his neck which allowed him to put some distance between them. Lethelin pushed her down and sat on her as they went to work prying her other hand off of Mitchell’s wrist.

“No!” Allora screamed. “Give me more! More!”

The elf thrashed about like a wild thing, swinging her free hand and kicking for all she was worth. Mitchell could no longer feel his right arm as the cold seeped into his bones. He could feel himself growing faint.

“Balls, this woman is strong!” Lethelin yelled as she pried the fingers back off of Mitchell’s wrist. It was all he could do to keep sitting on Allora’s legs as she thrashed.

With two of her fingers pried open, Mitchell was finally able to pull himself free. He yanked back and tried to stand but immediately his legs gave out and he collapsed against the back wall of the tent. He began to shiver uncontrollably as he tried to get his limbs to work.

In front of him Allora was keening and whimpering. She’d thrown herself back on her sleeping mat and began to writhe, her hands moving over her body in an obscene way. She caressed herself over her clothes, grabbing her breasts and squeezing. Her back arched almost throwing Lethelin off as she moaned.

“So waaaarm!” she groaned. “Give me moooore, Mitchell. Please? I need it so bad. I need you, Mitchell.”

Her half-lidded pale eyes found his in the dim light of the tent and she reached out to him. She slowly sat up, her hand reaching between her legs. There was something otherworldly about her. As Mitchell looked into her eyes, he found he wanted to go to her. He wanted to give her what she needed. She was so hungry and Mitchell could feed her. Make her warm.

“Mitchellllllll,” Allora pleaded as her hand beckoned. “Come to meeee.”

“Sweet fucking sun,” Lethelin said in horror.

Mitchell barely heard her. He pushed himself up with his one good arm and began to crawl to her with legs that still didn’t want to move right. He had to go to her. Mitchell had to give her what she needed.

“Hope this works,” Mitchell heard Lethelin say.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Lethelin bring her arm down in a sharp swift motion to the back of Allora’s head. The sickening sound the club made as it struck Allora sent a shock through Mitchell. It turned Allora into a lifeless heap as her body crumpled.

“No!” Mitchell cried, throwing himself forward.

But then the spell was broken. He blinked and tried to orient himself. Mitchell could feel a fog clear from his mind.

“You alright?” Lethelin asked as she stepped over Allora’s body to look at him. “Because I can use this on you too, if you keep acting like a fish-brained idiot.”

She waved the club at him and watched his eyes to see if he was back.

“No, I’m okay,” Mitchell told her as his right hand broke out in the most intense pins-and-needles feeling he’d ever felt.

“You sure?” she asked again, this time shaking the club in his face. “I’ll do it. Don’t think I won’t.”

Mitchell gave her a tired smile.

“Really, I’m okay. The effect ended when you knocked her out.”

Lethelin watched him for a few more seconds, then turned back to Allora who hadn’t moved. Her eyes were slightly open and she could see the silvery-white color just peaking out beneath her lashes. She had a line of drool trailing out of her mouth.

“What in Stollar’s ball sack was that?” Lethelin asked.

“I don’t know,” Mitchell admitted. “She was pulling something out of me though. Her touch, I mean.”

Mitchell flexed his hand and massaged his forearm.

“It’s like she was pulling the life from me. And I wanted to let her,” Mitchell continued. “When she looked at me, it was like I had to go to her.”

Lethelin looked at him and the silence was heavy. Neither one of them wanted to say what they were both thinking. Neither of them had the knowledge to help Allora and they didn’t know how much time they had left.

“Get some rope,” Mitchell said. “We’ll need to tie her up, I think.”

With Allora secured Lethelin took second watch. Mitchell was too exhausted after what Allora had done to him. As he tried to sleep, he couldn’t get the image of Allora’s writhing body out of his mind. The hunger on her face had been terrifying. It was a hunger for his life and she would have killed him if he had gone to her.

As sleep began to take him, he said his first prayer.

“Vish,” Mitchell said to himself, “if you’re watching, we’re running out of options. Allora believes in you so if you can help, now would be a good time.”

Then his exhaustion claimed him.

Some time in the pre-dawn morning the snowstorm hit.