The Onyx Throne - Ch.71-73

Chapter 71

"Going overland, avoiding roads and towns as much as we can, I expect it to take us about two ten-days to get to Lorivin," Allora repeated as they made final checks in the pre-dawn light. She looked longingly at the pack that held her armor and Mitchell knew how much she wished to wear it again, but that would be painting a target on their backs. She'd also freshly wrapped the pommel of her sword, hiding the gemstone from view.

As for Mitchell, Allora and Gilriel had made some small adjustments that made his new armor more comfortable and, after the last few days practicing in it, he was finally starting to get a feel for the extra weight and how it played with his reaction times. As a result, he was feeling much more confident. By reflex, he slipped his fingers over the cekip, feeling the full complement of six additional stones for each of his mana types, plus the ones in his sevith. His sword was also freshly sharpened and free in his scabbard.

Lethlin sat cross-legged on the picnic table, her bow across her knees and her pack slung over her back, waiting. She'd required a lot less packing and also didn't seem as particular about what she was or wasn't carrying as Allora or Mitchell.

"How likely is it that we start hitting patrols?" Mitchell asked.

Allora's brow creased.

"It is hard to know for sure. Milandris's mercenary forces are less organized or thorough than rangers, the crown guard, or the watch were, but they also know I am back in the country and will be on high alert. Plus, we can expect them to be actively scrying for my location. It will not take them long to figure out exactly where I am headed."

"Not that they wouldn't know anyway," Lethelin said through a mouthful of dried fruit.

"True," Allora grimaced. "If we are forced to detour it could add several days to the journey."

"What if we just got jivis and rode like hell for the city?" Mitchell asked, suddenly having an idea.

"Rode like... what?" Allora asked, her face puzzled.

"The nine hells?" Lethelin asked, also confused.

Mitchell made a mental note. There were some things that didn't translate at all, even when he used the right words.

"If we rode as fast as we could, stopping only long enough to rest horses and eat, and made all possible haste to the city, could we get there ahead of whatever forces they might send to follow you?"

"Oh!" Lethelin said in sudden understanding. "You mean what if we humped the fire drake!"

Allora snickered.

"We say lightning drakes in Lorivin," the knight said.

Mitchell arched an eyebrow at the visuals but he thought he got it. He hadn't actually seen a drake yet, but from what he understood, they were sort of like lesser dragons. Quasi-intelligent, voraciously hungry, and often had elemental attacks of some sort that were related to their breed, similar to their larger cousins.

"Sure," he said with a laugh, "if we humped a drake."

Allora paused to consider and Lethelin looked contemplative as well.

"It might work," Allora said. "I had not considered it because, well, we do not have jivis."

"Are they hard to get?" Mitchell asked.

"Not if you have the coin," Lethelin said.

"Which we are in somewhat short supply of," Allora added.

"I mean... I could get us jivis in any town we stop at," Lethlin said. "Even Clayfaire. They have a stable with several."

"You mean steal them," Allora said, her voice flat.

"Steal, borrow with the intention of returning one day, take your pick."

Allora expelled a breath through her nose and gave Lethelin a hard look.

"The people in that town don't deserve to have their livelihood suffer just so we can make better time."

"I think if the people in that town knew what we were about they would be offering up those jivis in gratitude. It's not our fault that we can't tell them."

"It would still be theft," Allora said, her voice getting testy.

"If we're being technical, everything belongs to Mitchell, anyway. He's the monarch," Lethelin countered. "He's just claiming what's rightfully his."

"That is--"

"How much time would we save?" Mitchell interjected, hoping not to start the day off with one of their moral arguments. "If we had the jivis?"

Allora looked at him almost like she'd forgotten he was there, which was so often the case when her and Lethelin started in on each other.

"Well... if we could do as you say, taking minimal rest each night, while still staying off the roads, I think we could be at the outskirts of Lorivin in five days. Maybe six."

Both Mitchell's eyebrows went up. Twenty days down to five or six.

"I think we have to take the jivis," he told her. "We can be there well before they have a time to organize any effective search."

"It is still stealing from good people, Mitchell," Allora said, unhappiness plain in her tone.

"It is, but we'll leave as much coin as we can spare with a note that either they will be returned or the value will be paid back as soon as we can. Assuming we live, that is."

"Here, this should cover it," Gilriel spoke up from behind them as she set a small purse down on the table next to Lethelin.

The trio turned and saw the middle-aged elf standing there in full traveling gear with a pack of her own, as well as a sword wrapped similarly to Allora's. Mitchell smiled broadly at the sight.

Allora was more interested in her attire than in her offered coin.

"Gilriel, where are you going?

"I..." Gilriel started, then looked at Mitchell a moment, and pressed on. "I am going back to Lorivin."

"That is... that is wonderful!" Allora exclaimed. "And there is enough there for four jivis?"

"No, just three," she said. "I won't be traveling with you. I have some contacts. Other knights who are... Let's say who are on sabbatical like I was. They have long been out of the public eye and the world has forgotten about them, just as it forgot about me. I will attempt to recruit them to the cause."

Allora suddenly looked worried.

"But your vow? You said you would never return."

Gilriel shifted the weight on her back and looked uncomfortable.

"I realized last night that while I might have left the order behind, I never forsook my oath to Awen. She needs us. How could I do less than you, child?" Her eyes flicked to Mitchell, and he saw pain there, but also -- oddly enough -- gratitude. "You have never wavered in your duty or your commitment, despite everything the world has thrown at you. I should have realized that a lot sooner, and I am deeply sorry. My own petty anger kept me from seeing how foolish I was being."

Then Gilriel did something that stunned the lot of them, but Allora most of all. She pulled her sword and held it tip down, letting it come to rest in the soft earth, both hands on the pommel. Then she lowered herself to one knee and bowed her head. Mitchell and Lethelin merely stared at the display, but Allora gasped, took a step back, and her hand came to her mouth.

"I, Gilriel Ne Sarandar, pledge myself to your service, Allora De Annen, Lord Captain of the Onyx Knights, and the service of the monarch, Mitchell Theodore Allen, in the protection of Awen and her lands. Under Stollar's holy light, in the shelter of Denass's cold embrace, and by the glow of moons of fate, I will serve faithfully until either my soul is called home or you have no further use of me. So I do swear."

"You..." Allora stuttered. "You cannot do that!"

Even in the weak light of morning, Mitchell could see that Allora had gone white as a sheet.

"You cannot! I... Mitchell, tell her she cannot do that!" There was a shrill note of panic in her voice that Mitchell wasn't sure he'd ever heard before.

Mitchell looked from Allora to where Gilriel still kneeled, her head bowed.

"What did she do?" he asked, confused.

"She... She just named me Lord Captain of the Onyx Knights! Tell her she cannot!"

"It sounds like she just did," Lethelin said, but Allora was so distraught by what Gilriel had apparently just done that she didn't even acknowledge the words.

"Um, Gilriel? Is that something you have the authority to do?" Mitchell asked.

"Has my pledge been accepted?" Gilriel inquired from her spot on the ground.

"Yeah, sure," Mitchell told her at almost the exact same moment that Allora shouted her own response.

"No!" Allora yelled but there was still more panic in her voice than any real anger.

"Thank you, my lord," Gilriel replied, ignoring Allora's denial. "I promise to serve with honor and distinction."

Gilriel rose smoothly and sheathed her sword in one smooth motion, her bearing one of stiff military formality.

"And, to answer my lord's question, before I left Lorivin, I was on the Council of Eight. One of our duties was the appointing of the Lord Captain in the event of a vacancy. Since I am the only member of the Council that is still alive, and I was never formally removed from that position, then yes, I am authorized to appoint a new Lord Captain. Unless you would like to object, my Lord Monarch. You have the right to deny the appointment."

"No, no. Um... Fine with me."

"You cannot," Allora said, her voice almost pleading now. "Please, Gilriel."

The strength went out of Allora's legs, and she fell almost boneless to the ground. A look of motherly concern washed over Gilriel's features, and she went to the crumpled woman, who was staring off in shock into the distance but not seeing anything. Gilriel knelt down again and took Allora's face gently in her hands and forced the weeping knight to look at her.

"You listen to me, Allora De Annen. If I had every Lord Captain in the history of the order standing before me now, I would still name you to the position. From the first, Lydia De Balgruff, who pulled the order together in those chaotic days with her own blood and tears, all the way to your father. I would look each of them in the eye and I would tell them that there is none more worthy. And by Stollar's swinging cock, they would all agree!

"What you have done defies comprehension. You and you alone have stood against the might of the usurper, and through the power of your will alone, you are bringing a new monarch to the throne. And if we win back the city, there is no one else who I would rather see rebuild the knights than you, Allora. There has never been a knight more worthy. I swear it by Stollar's holy light. Do you understand me?"

Allora sniffed.

"But how?" Allora asked, her voice trembling. "I never even attended my graduation ceremony! It wasn't scheduled for another month when Milandris came."

"The ceremony is a formality, Allora," Gilriel told her gently. "You were a knight the moment you soul-bonded your sword. Do you think Lydia De Balgruff had a graduation ceremony as she built the Knights one recruit at a time? Do you think Belgarion Ne Riva had a graduation ceremony during the war with Iletish when Lord Captain Sparkhawk fell? No, of course they didn't. They were knights who did what needed to be done. Their actions spoke the truth of their worthiness, not a graduation ceremony. Just as they have with you. Now, rise, Allora De Annen, Lord Captain of the Onyx Knights."

There was a note of authority and reverence in Gilriel's tone, and it seemed to resonate somewhere inside Allora. Mitchell watched as her back stiffened and her face firmed. Even sitting on the ground she appeared to grow taller. Gilriel noticed it, too and she smiled.

Brushing off the last of her tears, she took Gilriel's hand and they rose together. Then Gilriel took a step back and started to bow before she looked over at Lethelin who was still sitting wide-eyed on the picnic table, a half-eaten piece of fruit frozen about three inches from her mouth.

"Girl," Gilriel said, her voice low and hard, "if you don't get up off that skinny ass of yours and bow before the Lord Captain, I will tan your backside so thoroughly that you will curse the day your mother ever met your father. Do I make myself clear?"

Once Lethelin saw that Gilriel was not joking it was her turn to go pale. All that came out of her throat was a strangled squeak, and then she was up off the table like it had burned her, joining the elder knight in a low bow.

Allora looked a little flustered at the attention, but she stood, back straight and proud, and accepted their gesture with grace and dignity.

"Thank you, both of you," she said.

The two women stood, Gilriel with a broad smile and Lethelin looking like she'd just swallowed something slimy. Mitchell went up to her and took her hand and kissed it.

"Lord Captain Allora De Annen," Mitchell said with a smile. "I like the sound of that."

Allora blushed and squeezed his hand tightly.

"Do you really think I can do it?" she asked him, her voice somewhere between excited and fearful.

"I know you can," he said as he brought his forehead to hers. "One foot in front of the other..."

"Gets you where you're going," she completed the phrase.

"Just so!" Gilriel said, enthusiastically. "Just so. I rather like that saying."

***

"Once you get inside the city, I want you to find an inn called The Mighty Nine," Gilriel explained as they left the grove behind. "The innkeeper is an old friend and was one of my agents when I was still at the palace. Her name is Cenedra."

Gilriel caught the question forming on Allora's lips before she could speak and knew what she was going to ask.

"Don't worry, she's still there. We exchange letters two or three times a year. Before you go into the inn you will need to buy three blue flax lilies and tie them with a yellow ribbon. Then, ask for Cenedra and give them to her. Tell her they're in memory of her aunt Leesha. She'll know what to do after that. When I get back to the city, hopefully with a few other knights at my back, I'll go to the inn myself. Leave word with her about where you're staying, and I'll know where to find you when I arrive. I don't expect to be more than a few days behind you. I already sent messages, and they've agreed to meet me at a town a few days from Lorivin."

Mitchell nodded.

"Sounds easy enough," he said and repeated the bit of information back to her to demonstrate he had it.

They pressed on for another hour as the sun continued to brighten the land. At some point, Mitchell noticed that Lethelin was lagging behind the rest of them. Leaving Gilriel and Allora to discuss things among themselves, Mitchell slowed and allowed her to come even with him.

"Copper for your thoughts?"

She glanced at him hesitantly and then he saw her eyes track forward to where the two knights were deep in conversation.

"I'm happy for Allora. Really, I am but..."

"But you're feeling left out? She got the new title and all?"

"It sounds stupid when you say it like that."

"No, I know what you mean," Mitchell told her and took her hand in his. "I haven't forgotten what we talked about," Mitchell told her, referring to her feeling like she would be passed over if they retook the city. "So, I guess that just means I need a title for you, also."

She gave him sidelong glance.

"I don't need charity. I do just fine on my own."

"And I'm not offering charity," Mitchell reassured her. "But something Gilriel said earlier got me thinking. This Cenedra woman was, or is maybe, an agent. Agent as in spies, espionage, assassinations, all of that. I will need agents and contacts. Stollar's balls, I will probably need an assassin or two. And I will need someone smart, deadly, and shockingly sexy that I trust above all others to manage that."

Mitchell could see a flush start at her cheeks and a smile start to form that she was unsuccessful in hiding behind her look of stubborn indignation.

"That is true," she said. "You would need someone with those qualities."

"Mmhmm. Someone efficient, calculating, and brutal when the situation calls for it. Allora is many things, all of them amazing, but she can't do what you can do, Leth. Nor would I want her to try. I only need you to be you."

Her hand squeezed his and that was enough of a response.

"So," he said after a few minutes. "What should your new title be? Spy Master? The Spider? The Shadow Keeper?"

Lethelin wrinkled her nose at that and wobbled her head.

"What was it you said Vras called me? Mual?

"Maula," Mitchell corrected. "Gilriel said it meant 'hunter' in Waivian."

"I like that name. My secret title will be Maula to my contacts and underlings. The ones who will only know me by reputation, never who I actually am or that I work for the crown. It should be the name that people fear. I will need an official title to justify my position in court."

"Hmm..." Mitchell said, liking the idea more and more. "How about 'Minister of Information'. It sounds official and diplomatic."

She nodded.

"I like it. So, by day I'll be your Minister of Information but my real work will be done in the shadows under the name Maula."

"The Maula," Mitchell corrected. "Sounds more sinister."

Lethelin agreed.

"But..." Lethelin started to ask and then her voice trailed off.

"But what?"

"I don't suppose Minister of Information outranks a Lord Captain, does it? Could we make Allora bow to me?"

Mitchell barked a laugh.

"You're welcome to try," he told her. "But make sure I'm well clear of any sort of blast radius before you do."

She grinned.

"Fair enough."

Chapter 72

Gilriel separated from the group a few miles from Clayfaire heading west while Mitchell, the girls, Vras, and the yulops continued north towards the little town. They arrived at the forest just outside the settlement without issue and Lethelin went in to sell the yulops and use the additional coin to purchase three of their best jivis along with tack and bridle.  

Allora got a little misty eyed as Marvin and Tammi were led away.

"They were good animals," she said.  

"They were," Mitchell agreed as he hugged her. "Lethelin will make sure the stable owner knows to take care of them. They'll be okay." 

She nodded but didn't comment further.  

Roughly two hours later Lethelin came back atop one of the horse-like creatures with two more in tow. Each wore a saddle that wasn't all that different than what he would expect to find on horses back home. The bridle was somewhat of a shock though, now that he was up close to one.  

Though quadrupeds similar in size to horses, the animals were slightly smaller and thinner and almost reptilian in appearance. Rather than long faces like their Earth analogues, they had stubbier heads with forward facing slitted eyes accented with orange-red irises which Mitchell found off-putting for reasons he couldn't quite articulate. Their faces and heads were scaled with inset ears like a lizard and the scales continued down their necks until it transitioned into a fine short fur, the colors of which were light tan to dark brown on the three she'd brought back. Their limbs also transitioned from fur to scales not unlike chicken legs, and they had three-toed hooves that reminded him of ostrich feet albeit stubbier. They also had long incisors like a predator and their smaller teeth, while not quite sharp like a cat's, were definitely angular.  

But it was the bridle that really jumped out at him. Rather than a bit that was placed at the back of a horse's mouth through which the reins were connected, holes had been punched through the thick, almost chitinous scales of each animal's mouth and rings fitted through each. The animals didn't seem to pay them any mind, and it's not like Mitchell had any better ideas, so he didn't mention it.  

Once they stopped and Lethelin dismounted, all of the jivis started skittering about, their eyes going wide and fangs bared as they snorted and hissed.  

"They did the same thing to me!" Lethelin yelled over the noise of stamping hooves and growls. "They smell Vras, no doubt. I almost couldn't get them saddled." 

"Is this going to be a problem?" Mitchell called out as he reached for a set of reins to try and calm the beast down.  

"They settled down for me eventually, but it took both me and the stable master nearly a half hour to do it."

Allora rushed over and grabbed the reins for the third one from Lethelin as she was barely holding on while she wrestled with her own. Her krisa flashed and a look of intense concentration came over her face as she struggled with the bucking animal which started to calm almost immediately. The other two, seeing their companion ease, appeared to take that as a good sign and stopped trying to rear up but they still pulled at the reins and attempted to dance away. Lethelin was dragged nearly off her feet more than once but Mitchell had an easier time seeing that he had at least fifty pounds on her.  

After fifteen or twenty seconds Allora let out a breath and dropped her spell.  

"This one is calm, for now. I will see to the others." 

Using the spell on the other two was easier work than the first, and after a couple of minutes the little clearing where they'd been waiting was quiet once again.  

"I'm suddenly very glad I asked Vras to hang back," Mitchell said. "I was worried how the jivis would respond after seeing how upset the yulops were when they first met him." 

"Indeed," Allora said.  

"They're calm for now, but what happens when we stop and Vras comes around again?" Lethelin wondered.  

"Do you think I should try to talk to them?" Mitchell asked Allora. "The speak with animals spell should work for them, too, right?" 

Allora agreed that it would probably be a good idea and Mitchell set about talking to each animal. He was surprised at how hard it was but then he remembered that he had the same difficulty with Vras in the beginning and it took time for their bond to grow.  

After several painstaking minutes with each jivi -- the spell had to be cast on each one separately -- he thought he was able to get the point across that yes, there was a shadow cat nearby but that it was not a threat. All three animals eyed him warily at this information but the fact that he was able to speak to them directly and allay their fears went a long way. He did have to promise them that the animal would never be allowed into the camp when they slept which Mitchell knew Vras wouldn't like when he told him, but it would only be for a few days.

Given how annoyed the cat always was at how slow the 'two-legs' walked, the increase in speed should smooth over any annoyance at not being able to pester the jivis as he had the yulops in those early days.

He stepped away into the forest and waited for Vras to find him and informed the cat of the plan. He was annoyed, as Mitchell predicted, but the idea of being able to move at speed sent a wild light dancing through the gratha's eyes. And, if Mitchell was being very honest, he was curious to see just how fast the shadow cat could travel.  

Finally, they were ready to ride.  

"Have either of you ever ridden before?" Allora asked them after watching the clumsy way both he and Lethelin got into the saddles."

"Obviously, there are no jivis on Earth, but I've ridden a similar beast called a horse. But the last time I was on one was at summer camp at Camp Lakewood when I was about twelve high suns old. So it's been awhile."

Allora chose to ignore the English words mixed in with his Common as she understood the gist of what he was saying.  

"My first time riding one was when I was leaving Awenor to cross over into Iletish a few months back," Lethelin informed them. "I rode with a trade caravan and the woman in one of the wagons smelled like week-old fish guts. I traded with a jivi rider for my spot in the wagon. I didn't walk right for three days after we arrived at whatever town that was." 

Allora smirked and Mitchell grimaced. He'd been afraid of that. The saddle was comfortable enough at the moment but he'd have to see how his ass felt after several hours of hard riding.

"I am on the lead animal, the other two will follow her without much issue. All you need to do is hold on. I will start slow until you get a feel for it, then increase our speed gradually." 

"Will the jivi need to stop and rest often?" he asked.  

"Periodically, yes. I will let you know. But they are good runners. We should get several kilometers out of them before they tire." 

Mitchell nodded his understanding and Allora turned and started leading her jivi away.

Lethelin's stepped in behind her and Mitchell's animal pulled up the rear. The rocking motion was jarring, but after a while he started to get a feel for the rhythm of the creature's gait and found he could sort of move his body with it to lessen the impact on his spine. Once Allora saw that they were adjusting she clicked her tongue and her mount picked up the tempo. Mitchell adjusted and the tempo increased again. It wasn't quite a gallop. While the trees here were old and decently spaced apart, going full speed would be far too dangerous. Still, the ground was flying compared to the rate at which they moved on foot and Mitchell was exhilarated by the speed.   

A couple of times he spotted a black shape gliding over the ground alongside the three of them. If Mitchell had to guess, he would say that Vras wasn't even exerting himself. The few glimpses he did catch left him in awe. The shadow cat seemed to flow over uneven surfaces, his long body undulating as his six legs propelled him forward. Not for the first time, Mitchell was glad Vras was on their side.  

Around the time Mitchell was sure his ass was one giant bruise, Allora called a stop. They'd moved at a good pace and, if he had to guess, they'd covered at least triple the ground they could have made on foot.

"Let's rest and walk the jivis for a while, eat something, and then we will push on."

There was a very undignified amount of groaning from both Mitchell and Lethelin as they dismounted but Allora seemed only mildly saddle sore. She said she had plenty of experience riding and, even though she hadn't been in the saddle for a good while, she knew better than them how to move with the animal to make it easier for herself.

After some light healing, they walked, eating as they went. Once Allora decided they were rested enough, they mounted back up and sped off again. The jivis chewed up the ground, even at the slower pace they were forced to travel at through the forest but he could feel the power in their lithe bodies and how they were eager to be let off the reins. Mitchell wished they'd had these animals from the beginning, but it had worked out in the end, he knew. He'd had the time he needed to learn how to use his magic and the sword. If they had covered this much ground when he first arrived, who knows where he'd be in his skill levels.

The rest of the day followed a similar pattern. Push ahead through the forest until Allora called a stop, then rest, then repeat. At one point, Mitchell asked if they would ever leave the shelter of the trees but she said that, seeing as they wouldn't need to cross any rivers at the moment, there was no reason to take one of the roads and risk exposure. At least not yet. She suspected that by tomorrow they would need to hazard travel on some roads and the closer they got to Lorivin and the more settled the land became, the more dangerous that would become.

"We need to get to the Orna and cross it, then, follow it west downriver as it winds its way through the forest. At the speed the jivis move, we should be clear of the forest by the third day. It is narrower in this part of Awenor so the journey is not very arduous. But there are only a few bridges that cross it and we will have to chance it. Likely, there will be guard stations but we will have to wrestle that troll when we come to it."

"Can't we just cut through the middle of the forest away from the Orna?" he asked.

Allora wobbled her head.

"Remember, we have stayed on the edges of the forest for our time here. The deeper we go in, the more treacherous it becomes. The threats posed by the beasts that call the deep woods home would be greater than a guard patrol on the roads. I would not take that path unless I had no other choice."

"Noted."

They camped that first night a few miles past a small town that no one knew the name of. Everyone was exhausted and even Allora had bruises on her rear. Thankfully, everyone was able to get healed. Mitchell didn't know how they would have handled the second day without it.

***

"There are several two-legs ahead," Vras called down from a perch in one of the trees.

It was afternoon on the second day and they were walking the jivis after a long morning ride.

"How many?"

Vras hissed in frustration. Numbers were a difficult concept for him to grasp. In conversation, Mitchell had learned that Vras didn't seem to think in terms of how much or how many of something. Just if he thought he could kill them all or if he was likely to be injured or killed in the attack. If he could not kill all of them on his own, then there were a lot. If he could, then there weren't.

"Two paws," he said after careful deliberation.

This was something Mitchell had worked out with him. He had four claws on each hand and a total of six paws equaling twenty four. Vras understood it in theory but appraising the world in those higher numbers still seemed to elude him. So even getting the answer of two paws -- or eight people -- was progress.

Mitchell passed the information along to the girls.  

"Can he tell us anything else?" Lethelin asked.  

Mitchell checked.  

"They have blades and there are at least two magic users," he reported. "On foot, no jivis or other pack animals." 

"Sounds like a patrol," Allora said turning to Lethelin. "Can you get closer and find out more information?" 

The thief snorted derisively, handed her reins to the knight and pulled up her cloak. Immediately her edges blurred and, by the time she passed the first tree in the direction Vras had indicated, Mitchell couldn't see her at all, even in the bright daylight. Above him, Vras quietly followed her, the cloak's enchantment having no effect on the shadow cat.

"I really want one of those," Mitchell said quietly as he walked up to Allora.  

"I, as well." 

About twenty minutes later, Lethelin materialized just beyond the trees in front of them and gave her report.  

"Patrol," she said, simply. "Milandris's men, not rangers. A little bit unhappy that they've been sent to the forest to 'chase ghosts' as one put it, but from the chatter, it does sound like they're looking for us. I saw a krisa with four stones and a sevith with three. Couldn't make out which ones, though." 

Mitchell raised an eyebrow. Four stones was the highest number he'd come across since Dakath, who'd had five. He had seen several people at The Sleeping Giant that could use magic, but three had been the highest so far.  

"Is the one with the krisa likely to know a lot of spells?" 

Allora wasn't sure.

"As you know, learning spells take time. It really depends on how diligent that particular caster is and what they chose to specialize in. They may know several offensive and defensive spells but only one or two utility spells for the other stones. Or they may know several of each." 

"I've noticed that I've seen the same few spells used several times," Mitchell commented as he reflected back on the battles he'd been in. Is there some reason behind that?" 

"You have been running into battle casters, mostly lower-ranked ones," Allora explained. "Some spells have much more utility in combat than others. More powerful spells require more mana and thus do more damage to gemstones so they run out faster. Lower-level casters also may not have the mana reserves for using spells such as your blade burst. As you discovered, it can burn through mana very quickly if you need to sustain it. So, casters like to fall back on spells that are practical rather than going for mana-intensive spells, unless they have to."

It always came back to using mana in the most efficient ways possible. Mitchell recalled Revos's teachings about never using a higher-circle spell when a lower-circle spell would do. And, given how fast a caster would run out of mana without casting through a stone first, he supposed that made sense. Burn through stones without a ready supply of replacements and you were screwed.

Allora running out of stones had been ultimately what had cost Davrys his life. She burned through her mana too fast to heal him enough for them to escape. Mitchell supposed that, even with his exceptionally large mana reserves, he shouldn't let that go to his head. He needed to be just as economical with his spells as every other caster.

"Okay, so," he said, looking at the girls. "How do we want to do this?"

"We can take 'em," Lethelin said with a cocky grin. "Especially now that I have a bow."

"May I remind you that there are eight of them and two casters?" Allora said levelly.

"May I remind you that I'm an assassin?"

"Part time," Allora shot back.

Lethelin grinned and Allora gave her a reluctant grin back.

"Still, it's a good point," Mitchell said. "They do outnumber us more than two to one."

"We have Vras, also," Lethelin reminded them all. "He did amazing in the forest before."

Vras made his appearance then, dropping lightly from a branch overhead. He then gave Mitchell his "I want to talk" look.

"Do you have thoughts?"

"I wish to try my illusions."

Mitchell blinked.

"You said you didn't know how to use them yet."

Vras's inability to cast proper illusions with his tentacles was a source of constant frustration for the gratha and Mitchell had long since stopped asking him about it. The few times he had tried around Mitchell it had taken him several attempts and the illusions were indistinct, at best.

"I have learned," was all he said.

"Can you show us?" Mitchell asked after explaining to the girls what Vras had just said.

Vras sat down on his back two paws and his tentacles positioned themselves just above his head between his ears. They opened up to their full size and Mitchell saw small lights begin to flicker around the soft, pink flesh and the air just in front began to ripple. Then, about a meter in front of him, a shape began to form. It took a few seconds but as it took shape, Mitchell recognized himself, even down to the color of the gear he was wearing and the three-day old beard he was sporting.

"Oh, balls!" Lethelin said in amazement.

"He captured your likeness rather well," Allora said.

Mitchell nodded as he studied this copy of himself. It was quite fuzzy around the edges, and the closer he looked, he could see that a lot of the smaller features, things on his clothing for example, or his eyes, were not actually shapes of things, but just patches of color. His eyes had no sclera or irises, they were just blue spots in the face. His hair also lacked any actual definition, just a patch of brown. But that didn't detract from the impressiveness of what he was witnessing.

"Vras, that is incredible!" Mitchell said, praising the cat. "Have you been practicing?"

"Yes," he said.

While his reply was curt, Mitchell could tell the cat was pleased with the praise as his tail flicked back and forth quickly over the ground.

"And how are you feeling? Very tired?"

"Not very much. I can create a similar illusion for a short time before I tire."

Mitchell's mind was racing at the possibility. After a few seconds he thought he had the workings of a plan.

"I think I know what we're going to do. Are you guys ready to strike our first blow against Milandris?"

They all agreed.

"Okay, here's what I'm thinking," Mitchell told them and laid out his plan.  

Chapter 73

Despite their careful planning, the opening rounds of the attack didn't go off as planned. Lethelin's opening arrow shot flew true, but it struck some sort of invisible shield that the caster had up already.  

"Stollar's balls!" Allora swore beside him as the cry of went up among the squad. "He's got arcane armor up. Looks like we are in for a fight!"

Mitchell readied to move and cast a glance at the knight beside him. She had an almost feral grin on her face.  

"Let's go!" he told her.  

As they closed the last twenty or so meters to the road, the screams of the troops were getting more frantic.  

"Raffin is down! Arrow just took him in the eye!" A panicked voiced yelled

"Ambush! Get down!" another voice yelled into the thick forest air.

"Where!" screamed another.

"I don't-- Aggh!" The voice cut off with a strangled cry.

"There! Thirty meters ahead. Tane, fire!" 

As Mitchell and Allora charged onto the road just behind the scattered soldiers, Mitchell saw a wiry man with lank hair tied back in a ponytail extend his hand, and a small ball of fire formed there. Mitchell had a brief thought that the firebolt spell wouldn't accomplish much at that distance, but then the spell shot forward faster than expected, and it began to grow. Soon it was the size of a basketball, then it doubled in size again and a roar began to fill the air.

Mitchell stared in fascinated horror as the giant ball of fire slammed into the tree where the squad thought Lethelin might be hiding, and the explosion was like a canister of gasoline detonating. There was a low whump and sharp crack of wood being blown apart. That was followed by a small black mushroom cloud that engulfed the tree as it rose into the air. The ground around the tree was splashed with fire and burned enthusiastically for about ten meters. Even from his position near the back of the column, he could feel the scorching heat of the inferno the caster, Tane, had just created.  

"And to think, I was getting bored with the same old magical attacks," Mitchell thought wryly.  

Mitchell spared a thought for Lethelin, trusting her to not be near the blast when it came, and then they were among the rear-guard troops, whose eyes were all facing the front staring at the pyrotechnics. Mitchell and Allora gave no warning, but the one Mitchell charged for, an elven woman crouched low behind a tree, must have sensed something behind her because she started moving as Mitchell's blade began to fall.  

She rolled at the last possible second and--in a move he recognized as one of the first things he had learned--came up facing him with her sword at the ready.  

"Behind!" she shouted, as she moved to attack him.  

From the corner of his eye, he saw Allora was also engaged with a soldier, and soon the air was filled the sound of clanging steel.  

The elven woman was fast and, if Mitchell didn't have the benefit of the heart stone, he would have been worried. As it was, though, his reflexes were easily a match for hers, and he had the benefit of superior training. He was able to meet her attack and then attack on his own, sending her scrambling back, a look of shock on her face.  

Not wanting to waste the opportunity, he fired off a round of arcane blasts to keep her off balance. He knew they wouldn't do anything against her armor, she was much better equipped than the toughs had been back in Iletish. Still, it had the desired effect. As the bolts slammed harmlessly into the armor of her chest, doing little more than leave some scorch marks, she was pushed back a step and her guard dropped as she fought to stay on her feet. Mitchell came in low and, before she could get her sword back up to defend, thrust it cleanly into her stomach. The woman gasped, and she clutched at the blade, slicing her hand open in the process. As Mitchell pulled his sword free, she fell and didn't rise again.  

He scanned for his next target. Tane and two other men were now converging on him. The two non-magic users were out in front, with the caster in the center about a meter behind. Off to the side, just inside the tree line, there was an explosion and a male voice screamed. The men jerked at the sudden light and sound and Mitchell charged at them just as their eyes were pulled away. They were quick, though, and had their swords ready. Tane brought his hand up in a rush and Mitchell could see a spell forming there. A crackling ball of energy that began to fill the space in front of his palm.  

"Dodge, duck, dip, dive, and dodge!" he yelled to himself as he frantically tucked into a forward roll just as he saw the arcane lighting begin to expand.  

He landed just between the two sword users in a crouch, trying to maintain his balance, as the lighting sizzled a few inches over his head. Before the two men on either side could adjust Mitchell quickly cast Blade Burst.  

The spell released and the air around him was filled with spectral blades. The two men on his sides fell back screaming, their sliced hands losing their grip on their weapons. Just in front of him, there was an intense flash of light as Mitchell's spell came into contact with the arcane armor that the caster had.  

The man fell back with a high-pitched shriek, and Mitchell could just barely see what looked like shining cracks in the spell that protected him through the swirling blades. Mitchell rose and targeted the man on his left who was bleeding from every bit of exposed skin Mitchell could see, and thrust his sword through the man's unprotected neck. He pivoted and drove the sword point hard through the other man's chest armor, and then whirled to face the caster, who had a look of sheer panic on his pasty face.  

His armor had protected him from the blade burst spell, but it had done significant damage. There were spider-webbed cracks running all through it. Not wanting to give him time to fire another spell, Mitchell surged forward and brought his sword down in a powerful overhand arc, striking the caster's magical armor and sending out a flash of sparks. More cracks exploded out from the point of impact, and the man shrieked again. He brought his hand up and tried to cast, but Mitchell didn't give him time to collect his thoughts.  

Instead, he set about hacking at the shield with a series of lighting fast strikes at different angles, each one clanging on the barrier that was growing brighter as the fissures spread. The fury of the assault sent the scrawny man backpedaling until he lost his footing and fell on his ass. Mitchell brought his sword down over his head like he was trying to impress a date at a carnival by ringing the bell on the High Striker, and the shield shattered in a small explosion. The force was enough to carry through the magical defense and into the man's shoulder and torso. He died almost instantly, never getting to utter his last scream or plea for mercy.

As Mitchell stood, he realized that the forest had gone mostly quiet. The tree was still burning enthusiastically, the crackle and pop of living wood filling the air, but the sounds of combat had ended. As he turned to look, he saw Allora standing over the form of the last three soldiers, all down on their knees and with their hands over their heads. Allora stood over them, sword at the ready, but her eyes were on him, and she was smiling.  

"Well done, my lord," she said, her voice thick and her grin hungry.  

Thanks to their romp in the forest a few days before, the term "my lord" had taken on a whole new meaning.  

Mitchell surveyed the three prisoners. Two human men, somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties, and a dwarf whose age Mitchell could not determine. They were beaten, but they still looked defiant.

"What are we going to do with you?" he said to no one in particular.   

Lethelin stepped out of the tree line then, the hazy effect around her ending as she lowered her hood, and surveyed the damage. The prisoners jerked slightly in surprise at her sudden appearance, but that was nothing compared to when they saw Vras's slinking form emerge from the forest behind her.  

"Stollar's fucking cock!" one of the men on the ground screamed and fell back, scrambling to get away. Lethelin's drawn bow halted him. For a second, Mitchell thought he would choose to take his chances with the arrow pointed at his head rather than sit still a meter from a shadow cat, but he froze, his face pale and panicked.

"They have a bloody shadow cat!" the other one cried and began to tremble.  

The third man, a dwarf, actually fainted. His thick body thumping into the ground with a heavy thud.

"Wow..." Mitchell said at the display. "You really weren't lying about how people would respond." 

Allora merely arched an eyebrow and gave him an "I told you so" sort of look.  

"So," Mitchell said to Lethelin, "the illusion actually worked?" 

"Yep," she replied with a grin. "It was still hazy but from that far away, they couldn't tell at all. It drew their fire perfectly. I wasn't even singed by that jivi fucker's fireball." 

Mitchell walked up to Vras, stepping over the unconscious dwarf in the process, and scratched him behind the ears.  

"Good job, Vras." 

"He touched it, Dreward!" the trembling man who had managed to stay on his knees said. "He touched it! Denass, mother of night and watcher of souls, save me!" 

Vras, never one to miss an opportunity, stalked slowly up to the praying man and extended his tentacles and began to pluck at the man's face and growled.  

The guy actually wet himself. Mitchell stared wide-eyed as the sound of the man's bladder releasing filled the air and a puddle began to pool between his knees.  

"Oh, Stollar's fucking taint, man!" Lethelin swore at him in disgust. "Meet your death with dignity, at least. I've seen dock rats with more backbone!"

The man didn't respond. His eyes were closed, and he was muttering his prayer over and over. The fellow who'd scrabbled away hadn't moved a muscle -- almost like he thought if he didn't move, they would all forget he was there.   

Vras signaled to Mitchell.  

"What is it?" 

"May I claim this one?" 

That gave Mitchell pause. It was one thing to kill in battle but the men had surrendered and were captives. Even so, it wasn't like they had a stockade to put them in. They were on the move.  

Mitchell looked at Allora, and she could read the question in his eyes. She gave him a subtle nod.  

"This is a war," he told himself, not for the first time. "This is how wars are fought." 

Mitchell knew that. He knew it, but he hated it. He had read enough military histories in his teen years that he had no illusions about the brutality of the whole thing. He recalled especially the brutality that the Germans and the Russians had visited upon each other on the Eastern Front during the Second World War. The barbarity of it had been... Well, Mitchell wanted to say inhumane, but it was very much a part of humanity. It always had been.  

If he didn't kill these men, they would be enemies at his back. They would report back about Lethelin and Vras, and he might very well have to fight them again later. Or they would join up with the larger forces when the time came, and they might kill others. The attack that was a direct result of his previous attempt at mercy was also still fresh in his mind. If he had a prison camp to send them to, or a jail, that would be different, but he didn't.  

"God damn it," Mitchell said as he accepted the decision.  

"Do not make him suffer like the others," Mitchell told Vras. "Make it quick." 

Vras sneezed his displeasure, but did not argue.  

Mitchell gave Lethelin a nod as well, and Mitchell stepped up to the dwarf, who had never woken up from his dead faint.

This was his reality now. He would be forced to take life and order others to take life.  

Lethelin released her arrow into the man's heart, Vras lunged and took out his prisoner's throat, and Mitchell thrust his sword into the dwarf's heart, essentially killing him in his sleep. It was all over in seconds.  

The spent the next several minutes picking the dead clean of any valuables and came away with a good haul. The two casters had a decent supply of unused gemstones in their cekips and Mitchell and Allora took advantage to swap out their used ones for fresh. They also got a decent amount of crowns that went into the dimensional bag that they'd been carrying since Besari. Then, the ground littered with the dead and a tree still smoldering, they retrieved their jivis and pressed on.  

"Is it weighing on you?" Allora asked him sometime later as they were walking the jivis to allow them to rest.  

Mitchell looked up to see her brow creased with concern.  

"You have been quiet since the battle," she continued. "You have been forced to fight often in the last ten-day."

"I just keep wondering if they had families," he told her quietly. "Someone that loved them the way I love you and Leth. Someone waiting for them at home." 

"It is possible," she admitted. "It is tempting to think of them as all evil, incapable of love and friendship, but that is foolish. They did, however, choose to join the cause of an invader and attack a peaceful land."

"Yes. No one made them sign up. This just isn't how I ever pictured my life turning out. I don't feel qualified to make these kinds of decisions, but I still need to make them. It's my responsibility. But..." he paused, "will you do me a favor?" 

"Of course," she said without hesitation.  

"If I ever look like taking life is becoming something I enjoy doing, I want you to stop me - in whatever way is necessary." 

He stopped walking then, and faced her. Allora's expression had gone flat.

"Histories on my world are filled with men and women who started with the best of intentions, but their power went to their heads. They became fanatical and tyrannical. They started to hurt the very people that had chosen them as protection from some other evil. They became the thing they meant to destroy. I don't want that to happen to me. I don't want to become a monster."

"You will not," she said flatly. "The stone would not have selected one who would succumb to such madness." 

"I still want your word that if you think I am heading down that path, you will stop me."

"Mitchell, I--" 

"Please, Allora. I hope that you are correct, but I still fear what would happen if you are wrong. I just killed an unconscious man -- a dwarf -- and ordered the execution of two others. And those executions were carried out on my orders. On my authority. If we take back the throne and raise an army to defeat Milandris, thousands of men and women will be marching into battle on nothing more than the authority given to me by a stone in my chest. That is a scary amount of power and it terrifies me. I need to know that, if the worst happens, you will protect the people from me if I can no longer be trusted." 

She studied his eyes. He knew what he was asking of her, but Mitchell felt like this was something he needed if he was going to trust himself with the responsibility -- something or someone that would stop him if he lost his mind. He'd read the stories of Ho Chi Minh, Kim Il Sung and Pol Pot, just to name a few. Men who didn't start out as evil, murdering bastards, but who fell in love with their own power so much that anything became justified to maintain it. Mitchell couldn't sit Allora down and give her a Reader's Digest condensed version of tyrannical leaders of Earth's 20th century, so he opted to just explain his reasons and hope that was enough.  

Finally, Allora nodded once.  

"Very well, Mitchell Allen. It will be as you say. If your fears come to pass, I will do what is necessary to ensure that Awen and the people of Awenor are safe -- from you." 

She added that last part as if she thought it not only silly, but crazy. But it did make him feel better, nonetheless. Most civilizations had given up on the whole notion of the divine right of kings and resting total power in the hands of one person. Mitchell wasn't fool enough to think he was going to topple the monarchy and install a representative democracy and then hold elections, but he would do what he could to make sure that he didn't become some sort of tyrant, either.  

"Thank you," he told her sincerely.  

She nodded once and then looked as if she was trying to put the issue out of her mind.  

"Come," Allora said. "Lethelin is getting far ahead. We should catch up."