The Onyx Throne - Book One

Mitchell looked at the carnage around him and didn’t quite know what to think. On the one hand, these men had abused them, kept them in cages, and were taking them to their deaths. But, on the other hand, they’d just been brutally killed. Well, two of them anyway. The leader was still alive wearing the manacles and tied to the side of the wagon.

In his mind’s eye, he could still see the fount of blood that had erupted from Dumb Fuck Two’s mouth as Allora stabbed him under the chin. He had deserved it as far as Mitchell was concerned, but he’d never seen anyone killed before. Videos on the internet were one thing. Watching a man twitch and die a foot from you was different altogether.

Around him, things were settling down. Allora was digging in the compartment under the driver’s seat, Revos was resting up against the wagon wheel, chewing on some of the dried meat having taken everything of value from the two dead bodies and placed it on the edge of the wagon. The new woman was squatting at the unconscious leader’s feet staring at him, the stiletto she’d lent to Allora to aid in the escape held loosely in one hand.

Mitchell studied her as she eyed him. She wasn’t as tall as Allora and she appeared human. Her red hair had the color of wet blood as it shimmered in the light of the planet’s second moon. She had a lovely face that looked too young to wear the expression of cold murderous rage it now did as she stared almost unblinkingly at her prisoner.

She had a strong–though not masculine– jaw. Her cheekbones weren’t as high as Allora’s but were still prominent. The woman’s nose was thin and slightly upturned and her lips were thinner than Allora’s. They were also turned down with a scowl and Mitchell wondered what this guy had done to her.

From the front of the wagon, Allora made a sound of triumph and lugged a long chest free. As Mitchell watched, she slid it from some bindings and, though it looked heavy, she set it down rather easily. She reached back into the space beneath the seat and brought out a small ax. Mitchell recognized it as belonging to Axe Man. She swung it down and Mitchell heard the distinct sound of snapping metal. Revos looked up from his silent contemplations as well. He said something to her as she raised the lid, but she didn’t answer. She dove in, tossing a few things to the ground beside her, one of which looked suspiciously like his cell phone. Then she finally pulled the object she’d been searching for free from the bottom.

It was a sword. As she brought it out of the box Mitchell saw that it was nearly as long as the chest and it must have been taking up the full length on the bottom. She got to her feet a little shakily and held the sword, still in its scabbard, out in front of her. The damn thing was nearly four feet long. The scabbard was made of a dark black wood bound in leather and spaced along the sides were small purple gemstones that glittered in the moonlight.

Mitchell saw then that Allora was crying. Tears dripped from her eyes, but she paid them no notice. Almost reverently, she drew the sword and set the scabbard back into the chest. Mitchell didn’t know much about swords besides what he’d seen on some YouTube videos but this one looked as deadly as it was beautiful.

The blade shone so brightly in the moon’s light that it almost seemed to have an inner fire. He could see a broad fuller cut down nearly the full length of the double-edged weapon that ended in a ricasso that had a small black stone set into it. The guard was a simple yet elegant ‘T’ shape with another black stone set in the center. The grip was covered in black leather and a ball rested at the pommel. Even the new woman turned to watch and Mitchell saw her eyes go wide as she took in the blade. She muttered some sort of curse as she stood up suddenly and took a step or two back as if she wanted to run.

Allora only had eyes for her blade. She touched the steel to her forehead and Mitchell saw her speak but it was pitched too low for him to hear. After a moment she sniffed, then grabbed the scabbard and resheathed the sword in one fluid motion that spoke of thousands of repetitions. She set it on the ground and began to dig through the rest of the things in the chest. After a few moments, she came out with a headband that she slipped onto her head. He recognized it as the same one she’d worn when they’d first met. She pulled something else and tossed it to Revos. It was a glove, similar to the one that the leader had been wearing although this one had several more stones in it and looked to have gold and silver filigree connecting them as well.

Revos grunted in satisfaction and slid it over his large clawed hand. Once he had it on, he flexed his fingers and Allora said something to him, not taking her eyes off the chest. Revos turned to look at Mitchell and then held his newly gloved hand out. Before Mitchell thought to be concerned, a couple of the stones on the glove glowed and he felt a familiar sensation washing over him. It tingled slightly, almost like when someone gives you head or back scratches and finds just the right spot.

“That was a full comprehension spell so you should be able to talk to all of us now,” Revos told him. “At least for the next hour or so.”

Mitchell shivered a little, still not used to having magic cast on him, but nodded.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Wait,” the new woman said. “You can’t speak Common? Where are you from?”

Mitchell looked to Allora who was examining the contents of a pouch she’d pulled from the chest and then to Revos, who only shrugged and went back to chewing on the dried meat.

“I’m…” Mitchell wasn’t sure how to explain it so told her the simple truth. “I’m from a place called Earth.”

He nodded his head towards Allora.

“She brought me here through a portal or something. I don’t know how it works. We don’t have magic where I live.”

“Well, that would explain your strange clothes.” She made a point of looking him up and down. “I’m Lethelin Ne Forlia.”

The woman, Lethelin, held her hand up, touched the tip of her middle finger to the spot just between her emerald green eyes, and gestured out, almost like a salute but her hand was vertical, not horizontal.

“I’m Mitchell Allen.” Mitchell mirrored the gesture somewhat awkwardly. “Nice to meet you.”

Revos paused mid-chew, his dark lips forming a smile.

“Your name is Lethelin?”

An annoyed look passed over her features and she seemed about to speak but Allora came over then, holding her newly recovered blade and a few small bags. She was standing a little taller now that she had her sword back.

“I think introductions are in order for all of us,” Allora said to this new woman. “And then we can see to your injuries.”

Allora pointed to Lethelin’s arm and, upon closer inspection, Mitchell noticed a decent amount of blood that had dried on the sleeve. It had been partially hidden by the cloak she wore, and he hadn’t seen it before Allora mentioned it.

“I’ll be okay. I hadn’t moved far enough away when he fired that lance at me. It’s just some cuts from a few shards of rock.”

“Nevertheless, we have healing magic. It is the least we can do.”

“Suit yourself,” Lethelin said and shrugged.

“I am Allora De Annen and I am in your debt.”

Mitchell sensed a shift in her tone when she said it. There was a formality to her speech that hadn’t been there before. Her body was stiff and her eyes hard as she stared at the woman responsible for their rescue.

“If a day comes when you need my aid, I am honor-bound to give it. I make this pledge on my power and in Vish’s holy light. Speak your need, and it will be done.”

Lethelin looked stunned.

“That’s really not necessary,” she stammered. “A simple thanks is enough. I didn’t come here to save you. I only let you out so you could help me get him.”

Revos spoke up from the ground.

“You would turn aside a vow from an Onyx Knight?”

The woman looked like a cornered rabbit. “No! I… Well, first off, I thought the knights were all dead. And, secondly, I don’t want to get involved in whatever it is you’re all involved in.”

Her attention shifted back to Allora. “If you really are a knight then you’re a walking target.”

Allora pushed on, ignoring Lethelin’s protests.

“If Ivaran had made it to the southern road, likely we would have lost any chance for escape. So, whatever your reasons, I thank you.”

She paused then and glanced sidelong at where Vish was making its lonely nighttime journey toward the far horizon.

“And, Lethelin,” she paused, giving a similar smirk as she said the name. “I suspect that even though you may wish to travel on once your prey is dealt with, Vish has other plans for you.”

Mitchell wondered what it was about her name that amused them so much, but there was no time to ask.

Lethelin grimaced.

“Stolar’s swinging balls woman, don’t say things like that! The last thing I need is to get involved in holy quests!”

Allora didn’t respond, giving the woman a small smile. She then brought her gaze over to Revos and waited with an air of expectation. Revos caught the look and grunted, swallowing down the last of his jerky before getting to his feet and standing to his full height.

“My good lady Lethelin, I am Arcanist Revos Naxus of Clan Heart’s Blood, and I am at your service,” he said, his voice somber. He executed a textbook bow and flourished his hand as if he were wearing a cape and intended to throw it over his shoulder. “I thank you most humbly for saving my life.”

It was hard to tell in the moonlight, but Mitchell thought Lethelin blushed slightly, maybe at the formality.

“You’re welcome, Arcanist.”

Revos stood back up then and gave her a dazzling smile. “Please, call me Revos.”

Revos touched his hand to that spot on his forehead and gave Lethelin the salute.

Introductions out of the way, Allora went over to Lethelin and offered to heal her.

“I have only a minor skill in healing but it should be enough for this.”

Lethelin nodded and submitted to Allora’s touch. Mitchell watched in fascination. After Allora took her hand away the open, slowly seeping wound was gone. The coagulated blood still remained but Mitchell was sure that if it was washed away he would see fresh, unmarred skin.

Allora then went to Revos and healed the wound he had taken in the leg during his fight with Ivaran, then he healed her of her scrapes and bruises.

“Why can’t you heal yourself?” Mitchell asked.

“It does not work,” Allora answered. “Trying to use your own healing magic on a wound just results in the spell failing and the mana sliding off like ice on a hot blade. No one is quite sure why.”

“It has to do with the vibrational frequencies,” Revos said around another mouthful of jerky.

“That is one theory,” Allora said, but she didn’t sound convinced.

Over the next hour, they indulged in a little extra food and, more importantly, washed. Mitchell found out how they’d been staying hydrated. The water barrels were enchanted! Revos explained that runes carved along the lids would slowly drip water into the barrels allowing them to refill over time. The runes were crude, Revos had said, but worked well enough. Moreover, now that there were only three of them instead of the original eight with which they’d started had a lot of extra water. That meant they could bathe!

The lean-to was set up on the opposite side of the wagon and they were each given enough privacy to wash off the weeks of filth and grime. Revos even did something to the water that gave it a scent. There was no soap, but scrubbing himself with the lukewarm liquid was better than any spa treatment at that moment.

They used one of the smaller, non-enchanted barrels as a wash basin for their filthy clothes, each of them taking a little time to rinse off their garments with Revos’s scented water before laying them over the side of the wagon. Revos worked a little more magic and they were dry in moments. Somehow he was able to get the water to simply slide off the clothes.

By the time they were relatively clean and clothed, the horizon was getting lighter, and Ivaran was starting to come around. At Lethelin’s request, Revos had healed some of the burns along his body as she didn’t want him to pass out from the pain.

Allora had explained to Mitchell that he was unconscious because he’d been trying to maintain the spell under magical assault and, when it broke, the backlash had knocked him out. She said it was something like when a rope snaps under tension and, depending on the strength of the spell, it would render someone unconscious or even kill them.

A few minutes after he had been healed, he woke up fully. His eyes fluttered open and he jerked hard, only to find ropes binding him tight to the wagon wheel and his hands in the manacles that had been on Allora’s wrists just a couple of hours before.

To his credit, once he took in the situation, he didn’t beg or plead for his life.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” he said, looking up at Allora. “More will be coming.”

“They have been coming for two years, yet here I stand and here you sit, bound and moments from death,” Allora responded, her voice cold and pitiless. “The throne will be reclaimed and your lot will be driven from Awenor soon enough.”

Some realization came to Ivaran then, and he turned his gaze towards where Mitchell stood a few feet back. He looked him up and down and then turned back to Allora.

“What, him?” Ivaran snorted in derision. “Good luck. I won’t answer your questions, so you may as well kill me and get it over with.”

He had balls. Mitchell had to give him that. The man was looking death in the face and seemed unconcerned.

“Another has claimed the right to end your life. I will not be killing you, despite how much I want to.”

Lethelin moved then, and it was like she’d just popped into existence. Mitchell had known she was there, of course, but somehow he’d forgotten. She had been squatting on her haunches during the whole exchange and, in the pre-dawn gloom, it was like she had vanished until she rose to her feet. Ivaran noticed her at the same time and twitched at the movement.

“Who are you, then?” he asked.

“I’m the one that’s been hunting you for a year now. The one that’s been taking apart your squad, one at a time. The one that’s vowed to send your soul to the darkness.”

Ivaran looked at her then, his eyes narrowing as they studied her.

Something must have clicked because his eyes went wide.

“You killed my men?”

Lethelin bowed then, flourishing her cape as she did so.

“Lethelin Ne Forlia, at your service.”

As she stood back up, there was a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Forlia,” Ivaran said as if tasting the name. “Maribell? The chandler in Varset?”

“The chandler in Varset,” she confirmed, her voice quiet yet hard. “My mother.”

Ivaran didn’t say anything for a long moment. All were silent. Mitchell could feel the tension in the air. Even the wind had stopped blowing.

Finally, he snorted and looked up at Lethelin with a wry expression.

“The fucking bitch wasn’t even that good.”

Without a word, Lethelin stepped forward, fast as a viper strike, and grabbed the top of Ivaran’s head, slamming it into the spoke of the wagon wheel. Ivaran grunted and his head lolled forward.

Mitchell watched as she brought the long stiletto up and she stuck her thumb in the semi-conscious man’s mouth, prying it open.

Ivaran’s eyes, dazed but aware, saw the blade coming towards his face and jerked against his bonds as he uttered a small cry of protest.

“Shhh,” Lethelin said, almost gently, holding his head firmly.

Mitchell watched in horrified fascination as she placed the weapon inside his mouth and pressed it against his left cheek. Ivaran froze. His chest was heaving as he drew in big breaths. He blinked his eyes rapidly as if trying to clear his vision.

She increased the tension against his cheek and Ivaran inhaled sharply as the thin blade began to cut into the corner of his mouth. Their eyes were locked together and, while he was trembling slightly, Lethelin was completely still.

“For the chandler in Varset,” she whispered to him. Then, she jerked the knife hard through his cheek and it sliced clean open, emitting a spray of blood onto the sand.

Ivaran screamed and his body strained against the bonds. Blood poured down one side of his face, and he gurgled as he inhaled to scream again.

“You fucking whore!” he wheezed and his voice was slurred as he tried to speak around a mouthful of blood. “Fuck you!”

His blood sprayed from his mouth and splattered across her face and clothes but she paid it no mind.

“Shhh,” Lethelin said again as she grabbed the back of his head and placed the knife back into his mouth, this time placing it against his other cheek.

Ivaran whined, his tough-guy bravado crumbling under the pain of having his face slit open. It was a pitiful sound. As Lethelin drew the knife taut he began to whimper.

“For my mother,” Lethelin said softly.

Mitchell turned away before she could yank the knife through his other cheek, but his high-pitched scream was enough of an indicator that she’d done it. Mitchell went around to the other side of the wagon and retched. Ivaran’s screams accompanied the sounds of him sicking up what food they’d eaten over the last hour.

A moment later, Allora joined him. As Mitchell stood up, gasping for air and spitting out the bile in his mouth, he looked at her. Thankfully, she looked like she wanted to throw up as well. She handed him a cup of the barrel water. As he took a drink, swirling it in his mouth and spitting it out, Ivaran’s screams rang out into the morning light again and the wagon rocked as he thrashed.

“Shouldn’t we stop her?” he asked Allora as she looked out over the dunes.

“I do not agree with what she is doing, but I promised her that she could kill him in exchange for freeing us. It is not my place to intervene. And it sounds like she has cause.”

Ivaran screamed again, but it was weaker this time.

Revos joined them then, snacking on a bag of nuts.

“She’s good with that knife. I certainly wouldn’t want to be on her bad side.”

He saw Mitchell’s condition then. “Feeling alright?”

“I’ve never seen someone tortured before.”

“I don’t have the patience for it myself,” Revos said. “If I need to kill someone I will, but not like that.”

Revos held out the bag to Mitchell to offer him some but Mitchell shook his head. Revos shrugged, and took a few more bites.

“How can you eat while she’s doing that?”

Revos chewed, then swallowed.

“Using fire as I did takes a lot out of me. I need to replenish.”

He popped a few more of the thumb-sized nuts into his mouth and then set the bag on the end of the wagon before heading over to where they’d laid the bodies of the two other men. He pulled out a small dagger and began cutting off the clothes of Dumb Fuck Two.

“What are you doing?” Mitchell asked him.

“We need something to feed the clorvol before we set out. The armor is likely to give her indigestion and you don’t want to be downwind when that happens.”

Mitchell stared incredulously for a moment, watching as he slipped the blade under some straps around the dead man’s chest to loosen it. On the other side of the wagon, there was a long, high pitched scream and then Ivaran went silent.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?”

Mitchell looked at Allora, but she didn’t look at him. Her body was rigid and she was looking out at the dunes as the sun began to light up the landscape. Mitchell could make out the heads of the little coyote dog things as they poked up to survey the camp before dipping back down.