The Onyx Throne - Book One

Mitchell stood on the second-floor balcony overlooking the assembled masses in The Hall of the Sun. His coronation had gone off without a hitch. Truth be told, Mitchell found it rather anti-climactic. A stuffy official from Stollar's temple in the city had placed a heavy onyx crown on his head that had magically sized itself to fit comfortably followed by a proclamation of him as the true monarch. He went on to say that Mitchell was chosen by Awen and blessed by Stollar, and blah blah blah. Mitchell had immediately disliked the man in his pompous golden robes and giant sun medallion. It seemed that clergy were the same here as on Earth – stuffed shirts puffed up with far too much ornamentation and not enough humility, as far as he was concerned.

The man had droned on for what seemed like hours, but what was in reality probably only a few minutes. And, it was possible that Mitchell was just being cranky and taking it out on the high priest or whatever he was. Allora had told him but he'd forgotten the man's actual title already. It had been an extremely stressful day leading up to the actual ceremony and, by the time it started, he already wanted it to be over. Allora had said he was actually a dedicated servant of the people, despite his somewhat self-important attitude, and Mitchell tried to take her word for it, but long experience on Earth had given him a healthy distrust of religious officials of any sort. Lethelin agreed with him, at least, and said she could arrange for him to have a little accident if he wanted, which made him laugh. But then, the more he thought about it, he wasn't sure if she was kidding or not. Best not to find out.

Once the ceremony had completed, the Onyx Throne began to glow, and Awen's voice resounded through the circular chamber, soft and sonorous, and everyone seemed to stand a little taller as the elemental's words reverberated off the walls.

"Thus begins the reign of Mitchell Theodore De Allen, monarch and ruler of all those who reside in my domain. He is bound to me by magic and bound to the people by love, duty, and honor. Long may he serve our people with wisdom, strength, and compassion."

The assembled nobles and who's who of Lorivin had begun to celebrate in earnest, then. Mitchell greeted more people than he could remember and had been suddenly glad they didn't shake hands here. He wasn't a germaphobe but the idea of glad-handing over a hundred people suddenly made his palms start to sweat.

Hackett had agreed to stay until after the coronation, so all of the surviving Onyx Knights were in attendance, lending somewhat of an ominous air to the proceedings. Falen, in another surprise, had also lent some of his people as additional security. The man was proving to be a valuable asset. So much so that Mitchell found he didn't even mind that the deal he'd made was with, in essence, a mafia crime boss. Lethelin was still keeping a close eye on him, and had informed Mitchell that she'd sent a message to some contacts in Varset, requesting a few trusted friends to join her in the capital, but they were still weeks out.

After nearly an hour of mingling he'd finally managed to escape up to the second level for a breather. The late afternoon sun was still coming through the large dome at the top which, much to Mitchell's surprise, had not been damaged with all the magic and explosions that had been thrown around. He'd later learned that it was enchanted, which shouldn't have surprised him. Additionally, all the statues were back on their pedestals, standing silent guard over the festivities.

"If we don't get out of here soon, I really might start killing people!" Lethelin hissed as she stepped up silently beside him.

Mitchell chuckled.

"I see what you mean about glitter fish," he told her as they watched the throngs of people eating and drinking in the grand hall below. On either side of him, back about a dozen yards stood Eldrick and Elrin, resplendent in their ceremonial armor, each back to full health. They stopped anyone attempting to come up the stairs and talk to Mitchell further, knowing he wanted some quiet time. Lethelin was the obvious exception.

"I told you," she said, her fingers finding his and squeezing. "I don't know how Lora can stand it. Just ten minutes down there and I started to get stabby. They are such an insufferable lot. So obsequious and cloying, always asking for information without trying to look like they're asking. Pretending to be interested in me when really they wanted to know more about you. Thinking I couldn't tell how they looked down their noses at me when they heard my accent."

"On that, we can agree," Mitchell said, and kissed the top of her head. "And don't worry about your accent. Now that I can actually tell the difference between the way you and Allora speak, I love yours. It kind of reminds me of how people from a land on Earth called New Zealand speak. But Allora grew up with these people. She—"

Mitchell's voice cut off as a sudden disturbance broke out among the gathered nobles and dignitaries who had been in Lorivin when they'd taken back the city. Had these been normal times, there would have been even more as the various kingdoms would have had time to prepare and send their envoys across the continent to properly welcome a new monarch in one of the most powerful kingdoms. But as they were only holding a city in an occupied country, they had made due with who was available.

At the feet of the large statue of Stollar, which was carved from what Mitchell now knew to be a special material they called sun stone, a ring had formed and rapidly expanded as people began backing up so fast that several tripped and crashed to the floor. There were a handful of screams, from both men and women as they cleared away from the figure that had suddenly appeared.

When Mitchell saw who it was that was inspiring so much terror from the guests, he went cold. Beside him, Lethelin gasped and took a step back.

"Oh balls!" she swore under her breath. "Oh, balls and bloody fucking taint!"

Almost as if she had heard the curse, Luvari's snow-white eyes turned and looked right at Mitchell. She stood in the widening circle at the base of the statue and she was pristine in her pale beauty. She was wearing a flowing white gown made of what looked like actual snow. It swirled up and around her pale skin like a shaken snow globe, always giving you hints of the luscious cold skin beneath, but never revealing more.

"At least she doesn't have to worry about any buttons ripping off her corset this time," Mitchell thought to himself wryly and tried to tell himself that he wasn't instantly overcome with a desire to ravage the ice princess.

Before Mitchell could say anything, several guards rushed towards the statue, weapons drawn. Vanthalla was among them, her swords already out. They were calling for people to get out of the way and then, they weren't. They were just gone; vanished so fast that people that they had been in the process of shoving aside were still in motion before they recognized that the force pushing them was gone.

Mitchell sighed.

"Hello, Lady Luvari," Mitchell called out from the balcony, greeting his sudden guest with a smile that was only a little forced. While he did enjoy the shock she was giving the nobles and the wealthy of the city, he knew he needed these people. Turning his attention to the crowd at large, he called out, "Everyone, please be calm. Lady Luvari of the Winter Court of the Fey Realm is a..." he paused, wondering if friend was the right word, but decided to be a little more diplomatic. "A guest."

"So wonderful to see you again, my lovely Mitchell," Luvari's voice echoed through the hall. "I just had to come and congratulate you on your victory! And I do love a party!"

When she said his name, something inside him answered. Mitchell had never felt anything like it in his life. Part of him wanted to go to her. Wanted to be close to her. Something deep in his mind whispered that he belonged with the arch fey.

The hall had gone deathly still. With her long ears, her alien face, and bone-white skin and hair, she stood in stark contrast to every other mortal race. Several people actually fainted as the realization hit them. They were in the presence of what many understood to be a demigod. They were immortal beings of legend, the source of both magnificent fairy tales and horrible nightmares.

"It is, and you look as lovely as ever," Mitchell said into the quiet, his voice cautious. "Thank you so much for attending. I would have sent you a personal invitation but I had no way to contact you."

Luvari visibly preened at the praise and twirled around in her dress made of winter. She pulled her hands through the swirling ice crystals and they came away at her touch, dancing around her fingers, and then fluttered back down to conceal her incredible figure once more.

"Oh, this old thing? Why, I only wear it when I don't care how I look!"

Mitchell knew that line. He racked his brain for a moment and then it came to him. She was quoting It's a Wonderful Life! Mitchell's parents had watched it every Christmas when he was growing up. Then she did something even more shocking.

Luvari leaned forward and pressed the front of her blizzard dress down and, from nowhere, a wind blew up the back of the frock in a near-perfect recreation of the infamous Marilyn Monroe scene from The Seven-Year Itch.

The fey giggled as she watched the shocked faces of her audience and then gave a little curtsy after the dress settled down.

Looking back up at Mitchell, Luvari said, "Don't worry, I took no offense, I have kept an eye on you," and she winked.

A figure had begun to move toward Luvari, and Mitchell saw it was Allora, with Gilriel close behind. Thankfully, her weapon was not drawn. She moved with what Mitchell would call a stately urgency. People moved from her path and in a moment, she was before their powerful visitor. Rather than speak, Allora bowed low, almost touching her head to the floor.

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"Lady Luvari, it is a pleasure to welcome you to The Onyx Palace. As Lord Captain and as one given the authority to speak on behalf of Lord Mitchell in matters of state and diplomacy, I extend to you the protection of the law of hospitality and name you honored guest within these walls or any that I call home, now or in the future."

Her speech finished, Allora rose and met Luvari's pale gaze.

"Well met, Lady Allora," Luvari said, her voice as warm as her dress was cold. "You are looking much better than the last time I saw you. I am pleased to see you so. Our Mitchell has taken good care of you, it seems."

That feeling tugged at Mitchell again. It was really starting to freak him out. And the inclusion of the possessive when referring to him was also troubling.

"He has, my lady," Allora answered. "Thanks in no small part to your timely aid. Please, what service may I render to you? It would be my honor to see to your comfort."

"I've come to see young Miss Lethelin. She has a debt that is due."

"As you wish, my lady," Allora said with no hesitation. She of all people would know the intractability of a deal with a creature of fairy.

"Oh balls!" Lethelin groaned.

Allora's eyes found Mitchell's and he nodded, knowing the question in her eyes without her having to speak it.

"Please, follow me," Allora requested.

Luvari nodded and Allora made her way to the nearest stairwell with Luvari a few steps behind. A chill seemed to sweep over everyone she walked near and people jumped back as if they'd been shocked. As Lethelin got to the bottom of the stairwell, Luvari suddenly stopped and looked at the man who was standing there. It was Falen, Mitchell saw. He was dressed in his best court finery, the people here having no idea that he was also one of the feared edrokii. His actions in the battle had made him somewhat of a celebrity and he had been enjoying himself immensely so far.

Luvari studied him for a long moment and the swirling snow that made up her dress appeared to blow a bit more violently as she appraised him.

"Interesting," she said after a pregnant pause.

"Pardon me, my lady?" Falen said, shocked at the sudden attention.

Mitchell could tell that he was trying to decide if he should run or not. Falen was no coward, but this was a lady of fairy who was giving him a once over. As Mitchell understood these things, that would turn even the bravest man's bones to water.

Luvari took a step closer to him and looked him up and down. Several people gasped and stepped away, but to his credit, Falen held his ground.

"Lady Luvari, is something wrong?" Allora asked, a subtle note of panic in her voice that Mitchell could tell she was trying to mask.

"Hmm?" She said distractedly, not taking her eyes away from the crime lord. "Oh, no. Nothing is wrong. But you and Mitchell certainly keep interesting company."

Luvari reached up and patted Falen on the cheek.

"But you and I should talk one day, I think."

"I... uh... I..."

But before Falen could formulate a proper response, she turned back to Allora and bid her continue up the steps. The guests watched in mute fascination, still none daring to speak. Few barely had the courage to move at all, lest something inadvertently draw the arch fey's attention to themselves.

With a nod, Eldrick stood aside, and the two women walked at a stately pace towards where Mitchell and Lethelin awaited. Lethelin had moved behind Mitchell, as if hiding behind his bigger frame would somehow save her from the deal that they had struck to save Allora's life.

Mitchell felt the weight of every pair of eyes as they watched their new monarch speak with an arch fey. The stories of this would only add to his legend and he didn't want to think of the wild tales that would come up from it.

As they came to a stop, Allora spoke first.

"My lord Mitchell, I present Lady Luvari, arch fey of the Winter Court of the Fey Realm."

Her voice was crisp, sharp, and formal. Her face was flat and, to an outsider, perhaps, inscrutable. But Mitchell had learned to read her over these many months and he could see the barely contained panic behind her eyes.

Luvari tipped her head.

"Welcome," he said.

"I am well pleased with the hospitality of your court," Luvari said. "It speaks well of you."

Her eyes shifted past Mitchell to where Lethelin stood peaking from behind his shoulder. "And greetings to you as well, Miss Lethelin. Are you ready to go?"

"Ah, if I may, Lady Luvari..." Mitchell began.

"Hmm?"

"The guards? Are they... Are they alright?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" the arch fey woman said, waving his concern away. "They're sleeping, don't worry. I sent them home. I didn't want to risk a misunderstanding and cause anyone to get hurt."

Mitchell released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and nodded.

"Thank you for your consideration."

"Come, my dear. I've waited quite long enough," Luvari said to Lethelin, holding out her hand and indicating that Lethelin should take it.

Mitchell knew there was nothing he could do and this moment was always coming. Lethelin did, too but he supposed that she had been trying to ignore it.

The terrified thief slowly stepped from behind Mitchell and was looking at the offered hand like it was a viper about to strike.

"It's only two weeks," Mitchell reminded her. "It will be over before you know it."

Lethelin gave a hesitant nod but still didn't look away from the pale white hand hovering in the air.

"You owe me," she suddenly growled, her eyes glancing at Allora. "So, so much!"

Slowly, Lethelin placed her hand in Luvari's and a shudder went through her.

Luvari looked to Mitchell then.

"Two weeks, to the second, as agreed," she said, then turned to go.

"Uh, Lady Luvari, if I may?" Mitchell suddenly interjected.

"Yes?"

"How did you know about It's a Wonderful Life and Marilyn Monroe?"

She gave him a knowing smile.

"Amazon Prime."

She reached into the swirling snow and pulled something small and orange from within and tossed it to him. Mitchell reached to catch it and when he looked back, she and Lethelin were gone. There were only a few snowflakes swirling where she had stood. They quickly fell to the carpeted floor and melted.

Mitchell then looked at what she had tossed to him and barked a laugh.

It was an individually-wrapped Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.

***

Milandris stared out at the dig site and tried to control his rage. It was all coming apart. Two years he had been searching. Nearly a decade in the planning before that. How? How had that woman evaded him for so long? How could one woman and, from the reports he'd received, a man from the human home world, have done all this? And where had those knights come from!? If he could just find the gods' damned geode, none of this would matter!

The dig site was a bit of organized chaos. Men and machines labored to move tons of earth as they pushed deeper into the ground. And in all likelihood they were wasting their time. Milandris had poured over the surviving records of the previous hunts for the elementals in preparation for his move on Awenor and none of them had ever mentioned anything like this. The first false geode had been bad enough, but the second? Then, a third! Awen had done this, he was sure of it.

As he'd pondered the successive failures over the last year, he knew she must have anticipated this centuries back. There was no way she could have done this since he'd taken over the kingdom. He could find her eventually, but this should have been done much sooner. And now, with the loss of the capital he would have to divert resources to either reclaiming it or isolating it. A siege of the city would be long and costly but with a monarch once again on the throne, short of a successful assassination attempt, he didn't see how else he could take the palace again.

"Balls and bloody fucking taint," he swore. How had she done it!?

"You have losssst the sssssity, Milandrissss," a rasping voice suddenly spoke up behind him. "Your failuresssss mount in frequensssssy."

A cold fear spread in from his gut at the sound of that creature's voice. They knew. Of course, they knew.

He turned and faced the cowled figure behind him. The tilsin's coppery scales glittered inside the hood. Her face, not as reptilian as the lower casts in their society, was almost elf-like, if you could get past the serpentine features. The elongated eyes, the vertical slits, the lack of an actual nose, and a mouth that always looked too big for the head. There was a sort of cruel and deadly beauty to those of the royal caste, but one would be mistaken to think it anything more than a mask. Tilsins had no concept of pity or mercy or of aesthetic beauty. As far as Milandris was concerned, their entire race was an abomination. Still, he had needed their gold to finance his plan.

"It is a setback," Milandris replied. "He has the city, but he has no army, no generals, and my forces still control the countryside. If he steps beyond the city we will have him. Already my secondary forces are moving to encircle the city and cut off trade."

"We feel asssss if your leadersssship has been lacking. You promissssed us the geode sssstoness within the firsssst year of your asssault. It hasss now been two. We grow tired of delaysssss."

"Your costs have been covered," Milandris snapped. "The coin from the taxes is ample to the task."

"The coin issssss insssidental, Milandrissss," the tilsin woman hissed. "We dessssire the stonesss from the elemental. That issss why you are here. Not for taxssssss revenue."

"You know why we haven't found her yet. No one anticipated false geodes. You will just have to wait a little longer."

The creature studied Milandris for a long moment, her flat, emotionless eyes probing.

"We feel it issss time we took a more active role in thissss endeavor."

"No!" Milandris yelled. "That was not our deal. I run the campaign, you provide the funding to hire the mercenaries. You get your stones when we harvest the geode. That was it."

"It hassss already begun," she said, as if he hadn't spoken at all.

Milandris stared at the alien creature, shocked at the ease with which she went back on their arrangement.

"What did you do?"

Beneath the cowl, that too-wide smile revealed a row of needle-sharp teeth. Milandris did his best to suppress a shudder of revulsion.

***

"Allora!" a voice sounded through the room, breaking through Mitchell's slumber. Beside him Allora groaned as well. More pounding exploded from the door.

"Balls and taint woman, wake up!"

Mitchell cracked an eye open. What time was it?

"Sounds like Gilriel," Mitchell grumbled. "I guess we should answer it."

Beside him, Allora pushed herself up, her bare skin glowing softly in Vish's pale blue glow. Mitchell did the same, both of them reaching for their robes. He moved to wake Lethelin as well, then remembered she was still gone. It had been nearly a week and he felt her absence every day. Allora had been in a bit of a funk as well, which surprised him. He knew that her feelings about Lethelin were complicated but it made his heart glad that she seemed to miss the thief nearly as much as he did.

The pounding came again, sounding hard enough to break the door down.

"Lord Captain or not, if you don't open this door, I'm going to tan your hide!" Gilriel yelled from the hall.

Together, both of them still exhausted from the previous day's training and meetings, they trudged to the door and Mitchell deactivated the wards that kept it sealed.

Allora reached forward and yanked it open.

"What?!?" the lord captain snapped. "Are we under attack?"

Gilriel's hand was raised in preparation for another round of pounding and the door had opened up so quickly that the older knight took an involuntary step back before remembering herself. Her eyes looked just as sleepy and her hair had the look of someone who'd just woken up as well. Beside her was a harried looking young man in a city watchman's uniform. His eyes were wide and terrified as he stared at the monarch and the lord captain in their bedclothes. He was carrying a stack of papers.

Gilriel brought her hand down and took a deep breath.

"Allora. It's your mother. I think she is alive."

~The end of Book One~