The Onyx Throne - Ch.83-85

Chapter 83

"With everything going on, I didn't get a chance to ask you what you thought about the deal I made with Falen."

Allora looked up from the fruit she was eating for breakfast. Beside the small platter of berries and the local equivalent of grapes, called bashos, there was also a small bowl of a porridge made from a grain similar to barley. Mitchell had become fond of it right away. The one this morning had been prepared with athi and some root vegetables.

Since Lethelin was off this morning with Falen putting the final bits of preparation in place, and Allora was still confined to their basement hideaway, the two of them finally had a moment to themselves. The fact that she hadn't brought it up was something that Mitchell wasn't sure was a good thing or a bad thing, but now was likely the last quiet time they would get before everything kicked off.

Upon hearing his question, she paused mid-chew and gave him her signature flat look. Mitchell held his breath, ready to endure her anger at letting a known edrokii have the services of the palace, even if the crime lord in question was an old acquaintance. The moment stretched and then a most surprising thing happened. Her face softened and she started to chew again. Mitchell immediately felt the knot of fear in his gut begin to unbind itself. He had learned to read her expressions well enough by now that he could tell she was not about to go off on a rant.

Finally, she spoke.

"I will admit that I did not like it," she said, her voice measured. "My first instinct was to forbid it, and I nearly had to bite my tongue to keep my mouth closed."

Mitchell grunted, but remained silent. That was as expected and, despite himself, he was prepared to argue the point. Then, she surprised him yet again.

"But, that is not my place. You did not ask for my council and, had you done so, I would have likely said you should not make such a deal with him. If word got out that the palace was in league with one of these edrokii, it could be very problematic. You will rule by right of the bond with Awen, but the support from the nobility is still vital in the management of Awen's land."

Mitchell nodded his understanding.

"However," she continued, her tone softening, "It was you who salvaged the situation that was very quickly going down the dragon's throat. If Vras had gotten ahold of Falen's men, I do not think we would have made it out of the warehouse alive. You bargained with the only currency you had and I know you would have done otherwise if you could have. And, if I am being very honest, I did not have any better idea for how we could get out of that building without either most of them dying, or us. I could not have done better, nor do I think Lethelin could have."

Allora paused, as if she was choosing her next words carefully.

"I trust your judgement, Mitchell Allen. It was a good deal and I think it saved our lives."

She smiled at him then and reached across the little table to grasp his hand. Mitchell could feel the callouses of all her years of hard training that had forged her into a weapon that could make even the strongest and bravest warriors hesitate. That he had earned the love, trust, and respect of such a woman was at times difficult for him to comprehend.

Mitchell felt a warmth spread through him at her words. He thought back to his early days here, how helpless he'd been, unable to even speak to anyone. He was like a baby in so many ways, jumping at shadows, unable to contribute or offer advice. He couldn't even aid in his own defense. His memories of that first battle when they'd been freed and how he had had to sit it out entirely, letting others fight for him, made him ashamed. Telling himself that--realistically--there was nothing at all he could have done was cold comfort. Not only had he been weak, beaten, bruised, and half starved, he didn't even know how to hold a blade back then. Nothing beyond the understanding that the pointy end goes into the other man. And here he was now, about to lead a rebellion to reclaim a city and Allora and Lethelin were going into combat beside him.

"Why are you smiling?" Allora asked him popping a slice of gawan into her mouth.

"I just feel lucky, that's all."

"We are hours away from a battle to retake the palace, vastly outnumbered and we stand a good chance of death or capture, and you feel lucky?" She chuckled at the absurdity of it all. "Maybe that word means something else on your Earp."

Mitchell laughed, too and--choosing not to correct her pronunciation of his planet -- poked at the food on his plate.

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be and with the person I'm supposed to be with. Maybe we will die. But if so, I will know that I died fighting for something worth dying for."

When Mitchell looked back into her eyes, he saw they were wet with tears and she was smiling.

"Thank you, Mitchell."

***

"Name's Khardin, my lord, aye. Khardin De Drakehorn. I was first sergeant of the third mountain division oh, about forty years back, it was, aye."

Mitchell looked the old dwarf up and down. He was wearing regular worker's garb, but his military bearing was unmistakable. He was broad across the shoulders, nearly twice as wide as Mitchell, and a squat five and a half feet tall. His face was broad, flat, and filled with crags that looked like cracked clay. His once-red trinket-filled beard was now shot through with streaks of gray and white and his nose looked to have been broken several times. Shale-gray eyes glittered out of his tan face and they appraised Mitchell right back.

"Stollar's blessings upon you, sergeant," Mitchell told him, trying to mimic the formal speech he had heard Allora use. "Thank you for returning to aid us in this fight."

Khardin grunted.

"Truth be told, my lord, it was no struggle to return, aye. Once I heard the call, I came with all speed. We'll drive out these dirt-licking clanless sons of fishwives, aye, we will!"

"We will," Mitchell nodded. Then looked to the next Onyx Knight.

"Vanthella Ne Astin, my lord Mitchell. First Lieutenant of the palace guard before I left the service roughly twenty years ago. I am honored take up the blade once more."

Recognizing the signs now, Mitchell could recognize Vanthella as a half-elf. She was handsome more than beautiful and looked to be in her fifties as far as humans measured such things. Although, Mitchell admitted, he didn't know what that would mean for a half-elf. She had long auburn hair, also streaked with gray, pulled back into a tight ponytail that went midway down her back.

She had a small web of crow's feet around glassy, pale-green eyes and a scar running down the left side of her face that began above her eye and continued to her jaw. Laugh lines framed a full mouth that was now flat and firm. Although she was wearing what appeared to be little more a sturdy traveling dress, she stood as if in full plate armor, tall and proud.

"I am honored to have you at my side," Mitchell told her sincerely.

And so it went as Mitchell greeted the three others that had shown up with Gilriel at The Mighty Nine that afternoon. Besides Vanthella and Khardin, there was a halfling named Hackett and a pair of twin elves, Eldrick and his sister, Elrin. All of them were at least middle-aged, but looked to have kept up their physical training. Each walked with a firm step and stood tall in simple clothing, none with their weapons.

"Those are being smuggled in," Gilriel had told Mitchell when he commented on it. "There's no way we could get our blades through the gates with the watch on high alert. I'm told that your guild contact should have them here before nightfall."

"I wish that I could introduce you to your Lord Captain, but we won't all fit downstairs and we can't risk her coming out in the open where she could be located until it is time to move," Mitchell told them. "But, once we are done here, I will send you each down one at a time, so that you can introduce yourselves."

Elrin looked over at Gilriel.

"So you were not joking then," she asked. "You named Travelor's daughter the Lord Captain?"

"I did," Gilriel replied tersely. "And I'll cross blades with any who questions my decision."

"She is but a girl," Eldrick said, mirroring the credulity in his sister's tone. "Surely, it would be better for you to take up that mantle, my lady. You have the most experience, by far. You served on the Council of Eight."

Elrin nodded her agreement and he saw the dwarf and the halfling shift slightly at the words, but whether in support or disagreement with the elf's sentiment, he couldn't be sure. Vanthella remained still. Either way, Mitchell knew he had to stop this immediately.

Before Gilriel could respond, Mitchell stepped forward, directly in front of Eldrick and forced the elf to meet his gaze. The man stiffened at the sudden intrusion into his personal space but he didn't take a step back.

"Master Eldrick," Mitchell said, letting his anger bleed into his words, "Allora De Annen is your lord commander. She was named so by the last member of the Council of Eight, and not only does she have my blessing, but she has Awen's as well. You will serve her as you would have her father and any other lord commander, or there will be no need for you to wait for your blade. You will forfeit it to me and I will expel you from the order right here and now. Do I make myself clear?"

Mitchell saw the steel behind Eldrick's coppery-red eyes and could see the anger wash over his features at being challenged so directly. For just a moment, Mitchell thought the old knight was going to swing at him but Mitchell didn't budge. He stood firm and met the elf's glare daring him to challenge his authority. After a very tense few seconds, it was Eldrick who relented.

"Yes, my lord Mitchell. I will serve with honor and distinction. I give my word, under Stollar's holy light."

Then he took a step back, touched his hand to his heart, his lips, and his forehead, and bowed.

Mitchell turned his glare to Elrin, the first who had challenged Allora's position. She immediately mimicked her brother's actions.

"Yes, my lord Mitchell. I, too, will serve with honor and distinction. I give my word, under Stollar's holy light."

Mitchell looked at the other three, all mute and standing at attention.

"If anyone wishes to challenge Allora's right to her position, do it now," he told them. "You can pick up your pack and be on your way. But if you wish to stay and fight for Awen, I never want to hear this spoken of again. I will have your oath or I will have your blade. Decide now."

Khardin, Hackett, and Vanthella each spoke their oath and bowed in turn. Mitchell accepted each gratefully and then, importing an Earth custom, shook their hands in turn. It was obvious they didn't know the meaning of the gesture, but they seemed to pick up the intent behind it quickly enough.

"Before we begin to plan for tomorrow, I would like each of you to meet with Allora. Elrin, if you would follow Eraphys downstairs, I know that the lord captain is eager to meet you."

The older knight actually blushed a little at being chosen to go first, but she did not protest.

"Of course, my lord Mitchell. It would be my honor."

Mitchell gave her a genuine thanks, which she seemed to take to heart.

"I think you will see very quickly why Gilriel made the decision she did," he told her quietly as she stepped up.

"I am sure it will be as you say, my lord. Lady Gilriel is wise. I apologize for my hesitation in trusting her judgement."

"It's alright. I will need the wisdom and guidance of all of you going forward."

Elrin nodded.

Mitchell signaled Eraphys forward, and the girl came, eyes still wide at the world she now found herself in.

"Please show lady Elrin down to Allora's quarters," he told her.

Eraphys nodded and turned to Elrin.

"This way, m'lady."

She grinned at the child and followed Eraphys out of the inn's courtyard. Gilriel stepped up to him, then.

"That was well done," she told him in a low tone. "I figured one of those two would challenge the decision. They always were a bit obstinate."

"Can't have anyone second guessing things once the fighting starts," Mitchell told her. "Too much is at stake. I'm fine with listening to advice, but if an order is given, it needs to be followed. They have to respect the chain of command."

"The... chain? That's an interesting expression," Gilriel said with a grin. "Your world does have some clever phrases."

Mitchell shrugged.

As each of the knights went down to speak with Allora, Mitchell was also sitting and talking with them, getting an idea for their skills and weaknesses. Eldrick and Elrin were perhaps the most versatile, with Eldrick having three mana types and his sister having four, making them both warlocks. The rest of the group had at least two or three magic types, each, as well as decades of study under their belts. Old they might be, but they were a powerful group and Mitchell almost felt giddy at the prospect of seeing them work together as a unit. Watching Allora fight was impressive enough, but this? Mitchell felt like he was standing around with the all-stars and he was their coach.

Hackett was skilled with a short bow and an accomplished healer. Vanthella wielded two short swords, only one of which had one of Awen's gemstones, and she was a powerful abjuration and conjuration user. Khardin's weapon of choice was a battle axe and he was skilled with transmutation, evocation, and enchantment. Once they had their weapons and armor smuggled in, they would truly be a formidable force.

One-by-one they went down to speak with Allora while the rest of them stayed in the courtyard to discuss strategy throughout the afternoon. Mitchell went down once to check on Allora and, while she was frustrated by the necessity of having to stay in the warded basement, she hadn't let it dampen her spirits. Each member of the team returned from their meeting with Allora looking reassured, and Mitchell took that as a good sign. She had won them over.

Throughout the afternoon, reports filtered in of the effects of the opening stages of Mitchell's plan. Small skirmishes were breaking out all over the city between angry residents and city watch or soldiers. Resentment had been building for a long time and it had not been hard at all to play on that anger. The reports of Allora sightings were only increasing, as per the plan, and rumors were spreading that a secret contingent of Onyx Knights were marching to take back the city. Numbers varied from ten to a thousand and, while few would believe the more outlandish claims, such as their being led by a dragon, or that all the kingdoms of Tewadunn were marching to the defense of the besieged nation, Mitchell knew that hearing the same stories repeated again and again, even if some of them were unbelievable, would lend credence to the idea that something was happening. The energy would grow as the day wore on. Then at night, the insurgency would start.

Towards dusk, a haggard Lethelin returned, with a small wagon being pulled by a single jivi. Inn staff were called to bring in the crates with all quickness and she came out into the courtyard and threw herself into an empty chair with a huff.

"Balls and fucking taint," she said as Mitchell sat next to her. "It's getting a little crazy out there."

"All part of the plan," he reassured her. "By tomorrow morning whatever forces are on patrol in the city will be exhausted, distracted, overworked, and at the end of their ropes. Falen is really coming through on his part of the deal."

Lethelin gave him a sidelong glance.

"How do you know this? I thought you were some sort of clerk that did math all day. You said you never served in any sort of military."

"I read a lot when I was younger," he told her. "My civilization has a long history of civil disobedience and something we call insurgency."

Mitchell had to revert to the English word there, not knowing if Common even had a word for such a modern form of warfare. He watched as the petite assassin tried to get her mouth around the foreign term.

"Big armies and even the city watch know how to deal with other big armies or large, coordinated groups," he continued. "But they don't do very well fighting asymmetric warfare. My nation had to learn that the hard way, more than once."

"Asssymtic... huh?"

Mitchell chuckled.

"Don't worry. It's how we're going to beat them."

While it was true that Mitchell had never served in the military, his flirtations with joining as a teen had prompted him to read a lot about military history and tactics. As near as he could tell, the people of this planet still fought in a largely medieval style, with spell casters serving as a sort of long-range artillery or crowd control in some fights, or working as siege breakers. Often battles would be decided on who could best utilize a combination of martial forces and magic users, working in tandem to create opportunities for the other. But, at the end of the day, it still seemed to him that the tactics were largely reliant on getting big groups of soldiers together in the middle of a field and smashing them into each other.

From what he'd been told, there hadn't been many big wars in the last century or two. Border skirmishes often broke out between nations, and there were battles with pirate clans on the seas, or some warlord who wanted to try and take over a section of an existing kingdom but, even then, they were small affairs, usually only involving a few thousand troops at best. Mitchell surmised that the powers-that-be would be completely unprepared to deal with a small insurgency force that disrupted vital services and then melted away into the crowd before the dust settled. Falen had taken some convincing when he'd first discussed the idea with him but, in the end, he'd agreed to have his forces begin the very dawn following their arrival.

"Well, it's working so far," Lethelin said with a tired grin. "We passed a lot of abandoned guard posts getting here as they were off dealing with some disturbance or small riot. The small-time thieves are feasting, as well. A lot of shops have simply closed up rather than risk getting robbed with no watch around to deal with it. Those that have private security are still operating."

Mitchell grimaced at the report as he watched Gilriel and the rest of the Onyx Knights begin to uncrate their weapons and armor. From over the high walls of the inn's courtyard he could hear bells ringing and people shouting. He didn't like hearing that innocents were being hurt by the chaos that was growing in the city, but, with luck, it would be over by tomorrow night.

Gilriel approached then, carrying a bundle and her sword.

"It is all here, my lord," she told him with a grim smile.

"Good," he told her. "Everyone should get what rest they can. We move at dawn tomorrow. It's going to be a long day."

Gilriel saluted, hand to heart, lip, and brow. Mitchell stood and repeated the gesture. Then he held his hand out to Lethelin. She took it and let herself be pulled up out of the chair.

"Come on," he told the weary girl. "Let's get you some food and a bath."

Lethelin groaned and leaned into him as they headed inside.

Chapter 84

"Up already?" Mitchell asked.

Allora turned to see him laying there, eyes open, with Lethelin snuggled and snoring lightly on the far side of the bed. It had been her hope that she could slip out without waking either of them, but she should have known better. Mitchell always seemed to know. She smiled.

"I wish to say my prayers to Vish this morning. I will return when I am done. Do not worry."

"How did you sleep?"

"As well as I could. Having you close helped."

Allora sat back down on the edge of the bed and her hand found his, gripping it tightly.

"I have not had the dreams since our time together at the spring," Allora told him as she let her fingers trace his palm. "I have not known such peaceful sleep since before Milandris came."

Mitchell eased Lethelin's arm off himself and sat up. Lethelin stirred but didn't awaken.

"Cut you..." the thief mumbled to herself as her body curled into a fetal position in Mitchell's absence. "And more gawan cakes or the jivi will mount your mother."

They both grinned at the sleeping woman.

Mitchell leaned forward and their heads came together.

"I guess that means we'll need to sleep together every night forever," he told her his voice filling her insides with warm honey.

"As my lord commands," she told him, her lips brushing his.

"Go," he told her as they came apart. "Say a prayer to Vish for me, as well."

"I always do."

They separated and Allora exited quietly through the door and headed up the stairs towards the inn's ground floor. Just the idea of being outside again made her heart beat a little faster. She'd been in the warded bedroom for three days now and, even though she understood the necessity of it, it had still been stressful.

Emerging from the stairs she was shocked to see two others sitting in the inn's common room, all wearing sleeping clothes. Both women stood at her entrance and bowed.

"Stollar's blessings upon you, Lord Captain," Elrin said into the morning quiet.

"Good morning to you, Lord Captain," Gilriel said in turn.

The title still sat strangely upon her shoulders, but she knew better than to try and refuse it or to insist that they call her Allora. Not on a day like today, at any rate. So rather than try to play it off, she returned their bow with one of her own, though not nearly as low.

"Stollar's blessings to you, as well. I see I am not the only one that wishes to pray this morning.

"Indeed," Gilriel said, smiling. "I have been waiting for you. Cenedra has a small shrine in her courtyard that we can pray at, if the Lord Captain wishes."

Allora nodded her agreement and followed the two women outside.

"Does Eldrick not wish to pray as well?" Allora asked Eldrin as they stepped into the pre-dawn darkness of the courtyard. Vish, though too low for them to make out from their place in the city, still illuminated the sky to the west. Allora detected the smell of smoke on the breeze. There had been fires in the night.

"My brother has always been a deep sleeper before a battle, my lady. But I will rouse him if you wish it."

Allora smiled.

"No, that is not necessary."

The three knights made there way down the small path through the inn's courtyard to where Cenedra had constructed her shrines. She saw that one had been constructed for each of the gods. Allora and the other two women knelt down on the soft grass in front of Vish's shrine, each of them lowering their foreheads to the earth and breathing in the scent of the still air.

Allora didn't know what the others might be praying for, but she imagined it was not that dissimilar from her own wishes. As she repeated the words her mother had taught her all those years ago, she felt the peace of the shrine wash over her. Her heartbeat began to slow, her mind began to quiet, and she thought she could feel Vish's grace settle upon her.

"Lady Vish, goddess of my mother's people, your humble servant greets you. We come to it at last, and I beg for your guidance this day."

***

"What's that one do?" Eraphys asked as Lethelin pushed the stopper into the vial and placed it back inside the box.

Lethelin glanced up sharply at the door to the vacant room where she had been making her various poisons in preparation for the fight ahead.

"What are you doing up?"

The young half-elf girl fidgeted before answering. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were still heavy with sleep.

"I just... if you're going to fight today, I want to fight, too. I've been practicing with the dagger you gave me. I didn't cut myself at all yesterday."

Lethelin smiled a little and focused back on her preparations. Every blade she had was arranged on a cloth in front of her, as well as the arrows she'd managed to construct in the time available. The armor-piercing one she'd told Eraphys about was only one of the things she'd been able to make.

"Don't be silly, girl. I can't bring you into this fight. You'll stay here with Cenedra and do as you're told. When the battle is over, I'll send for you."

"But..." Eraphys trailed off.

When Lethelin looked up, she saw the girl's eyes were moist.

"But?"

"You're going into the palace with Lord Mitchell and Lady Allora. What if you don't come out again, like my...?"

Lethelin remembered then what the girl had told her about her parents. They had gone up to the palace for a delivery the night of the coup and never returned, likely killed in the battle that broke out there. Lethelin felt a stab of sympathy for the girl. With a sigh, she began to slide her blades back into their sheaths careful not to touch the edges. It felt good to have them in their proper place again. Most of them had been tucked away in her pack for far too long.

"Come here, girl."

Eraphys stepped into the room and then sat on the floor next to Lethelin.

"Did you ever see the Onyx Knights fight before the old monarch was killed?"

Eraphys wobbled her head.

"I only saw them on the streets sometimes. They never fought in festival games like the guardsmen did."

"Do you know why?"

"No."

"Because they're too good. I would put any single knight against ten city guardsmen."

"I know I'm only twelve high suns old, but I'm not stupid," Eraphys said and pushed at Lethelin. "Ten?"

"Ten," Lethelin confirmed. "They train their whole lives. There is a reason none of the other kingdoms have tried to take Awenor since the war with Iletish. It's because they were all afraid of the knights."

"But they were all killed before," Eraphys said, her voice quiet, yet still challenging.

"Many were killed, but not all," Lethelin corrected. "And that was through some deep treachery. But you know what's worse than an Onyx Knight?"

"What?"

"An angry Onyx Knight. And Lady Allora is very angry. Milandris has been hunting for her for two years because he's afraid of what she could do. He sent all those soldiers into the city thinking he was only looking for one Onyx Knight because he knows how powerful they are. And we don't just have one angry knight, we have seven."

Eraphys pondered this for a moment.

"Do you really think that will be enough?"

"I wouldn't be charging into battle if I thought I was going to lose. It's not going to be easy, but I think we can make it."

"Okay..." Eraphys said reluctantly.

"And while I'm out there, you stay here. Keep the knife hidden, and if anyone comes in that doesn't belong, you stick them where I showed you to stick them. Help Cenedra keep this place safe."

Eraphys nodded.

"Now, to answer your first question, this is called witch bane."

Lethelin pulled the small bottle she'd recently stoppered and held it out to Eraphys.

"I apply some to the edge of these two daggers here," Lethelin explained and held up two small simple daggers with four-inch blades. "If I think I'm likely to be fighting a magic user and I can't avoid it, I try to cut them with one of these. They're weighted for throwing, as well."

"They look awful small. Can you kill someone with these?"

"I don't want to kill them with these, I just want to cut them. Witch bane confuses them, makes it hard for them to focus on their magic. You have to be extra careful with magic users because you never know what kind of spells they can cast at you. It's best not to fight them head on at all, but if you have to, witch bane can slow them down, make it really hard or almost impossible for them to use their magic. They can't concentrate on their runes and spells."

"Oh! Like if they're drunk?"

"Something like that. But even a drunk caster can still cast some spells if they're good. Witch bane clouds up their inner sight, the thing that helps them visualize their magic spells. I've got both edges coated on these, so I can slice four times, once for each edge, or give a double dose if I have to throw it."

"Wouldn't throwing the knife kill them anyway?"

"Not necessarily. What if you only hit an arm or a leg? The poison ensures that any wound I can inflict will all but guarantee that they can't use their magic on me. Then I can kill them if I need to."

Eraphys nodded her understanding.

"What about that one?"

Lethelin looked at the red vial that Eraphys was pointing to.

"That one? That one is particularly nasty."

***

Mitchell stared at himself in the room's mirror. His freshly shaven face looked back at him, appearing calm and unconcerned. Mitchell thought that was some sort of cruel joke because he certainly didn't feel that way. His insides were liquid and he found he had to struggle to focus on what he was meant to be doing. His hands kept stopping mid-task as he was lacing up something or threading a buckle and he would simply stare blankly at his fingers for long seconds before he remembered what he was about.

Was this how soldiers always felt before a big battle, he wondered. Was this how his grandfather felt before...? And, once again, his mind came up against that smooth featureless wall where the memory had once been and he cursed under his breath. Would he feel this uncertain if he still had that story of heroism to draw strength from? Unfortunately, there was no way to know. It was kind of like the paradox of getting a vaccine. If one got the vaccine and didn't get sick, was that the vaccine, or was it because you never got exposed? Would he feel more confident and less like he wanted to hide in a hole if he knew what it was his grandfather had done in the war or was this just a natural feeling that any sane person felt before rushing toward such an uncertain future?

"Oh, fuck it," Mitchell snarled and stood up straight from where he had been trying to lace up his scabbard into his belt. "I'll do it later."

"Problems?" a soft voice said from behind him.

Mitchell turned to see Allora standing in the doorway studying him.

"No," he told her. "I just can't seem to get my fingers to work right."

Allora gave him her little smile and stepped into the room. As she approached him, she brought her hands up and laced her fingers behind his neck and looked into his eyes.

"It is alright to be nervous before a battle," she told him. "Especially with so much on the line."

Mitchell brought his forehead to hers and they stood in silence for a moment.

"You know what I'm really looking forward to seeing?" he asked.

"What is that?"

"You in your full armor. And I want to watch the people as they see you descend upon our enemies like an avenging angel."

Allora chuckled and her lips found his for a gentle kiss.

"It is a nice thought," she told him. "I have been forced to hide for so long. But now, thanks to you, I will once again stand tall in Stollar's light."

"Because of me?" Mitchell asked, and pulled away. "You did all the hard work. I just followed along."

"I think you do not give yourself enough credit," Allora chided.

Her hands came free and she began to work at the straps of his scabbard that he had been unable to secure with his uncooperative fingers.

"Let us review. It is true that in the beginning you were like a babe barely able to walk, but you have been leading our little group for some weeks now. Somewhere in the mountains you began to believe in yourself. You gained the love and trust of Lethelin and brought her fully into the fold, and you did not let my stubbornness harden your heart towards me."

"Yeah, but--"

"I am not finished," she told him.

Mitchell closed his mouth.

"Somehow you managed to get Gilriel to return to the city. Something I was unable to do, even after weeks of begging as we worked on the spell to find you."

Mitchell cleared his throat. He hadn't told her about the conversation he'd had with Gilriel in her garden, but Allora had deduced that he'd had something to do with it, anyway.

"And," Allora continued, "she brought along several more knights that I didn't even know existed. You gained us an ally here in the city. You came up with the plan that is already bearing fruit as tensions in the city begin to overflow. You tamed a shadow cat, one of the most feared creatures on the continent and, to my knowledge, something that has never been done before. All of this was by your hand, Mitchell. We would not be where we are now had you not found that inner strength. And if we succeed today, it will be through the tactics that you devised to get us into the palace."

With a final tug, she finished securing the scabbard and looked at him fully.

"Please do not disparage the man I love," she said firmly. "I will hear no more talk about your lack of ability."

Mitchell felt his face flush. He'd never been very good at taking compliments but the quiet conviction in Allora's praise had forestalled any protests he might have given.

"Well..." he said at last. "I never would have gotten this far without you."

"Nor I without you," she said with a smile. "Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for trusting me when you had no good reason to do so."

"Hey now," came a voice from the door. "What about me? I think I deserve some of those compliments as well."

Mitchell and Allora both turned to see Lethelin standing there. She had a smile on her face, but Mitchell could make out the worry in her eyes. Mitchell knew she carried that knot of insecurity about her position in their group because she couldn't get over her feelings of being an outsider.

"Yes, you absolutely do," he told her and reached out a hand to beckon her into the room."

Lethelin stepped in, setting her bow and poisoner's kit down on the bed, and then walked into Mitchell's outstretched arm, and he hugged her tight. Allora was pressed into his right side and Lethelin on his left. Mitchell saw that Allora's other arm reached out and embraced Lethelin and the thief returned it.

"Lethelin," Allora said as her head rested on Mitchell's shoulder, "even though we share no blood, I want you to know that I think of you as my sister."

Mitchell saw Lethelin's head tilt up to meet Allora's eyes.

"You do?"

"I am proud to fight alongside you today."

Mitchell saw the flush rise in Lethelin's freckled cheeks and he smiled. Then he saw a wicked little grin stretch her full red lips.

"Not like real sisters, though, right?"

"What do you mean?"

Instead of answering, Lethelin closed the small gap between then, stretched herself up and kissed Allora on the lips. Mitchell could feel Allora tense at the moment, but then she leaned into the kiss and she did something with her hand that Mitchell couldn't see which caused Lethelin to utter a strangled squeak as their kiss deepened.

Mitchell hardly dared to breathe. He was witnessing perhaps the sexiest thing he had ever seen and he feared to break the spell.

Lethelin was the one to end the kiss first, and both women were breathing hard as each settled back on her heels. Mitchell saw Allora lick her lips slowly and then glance up at Mitchell with a grin.

"If we were real siblings," Lethelin said seductively, "I wouldn't be able to do that."

"No," Allora said with a giggle. "No, you would not."

"Something to look forward to if we don't die today," the thief said, before tilting her head up to kiss Mitchell as well.

Mitchell pulled her body hard against his, his passion swelling at the display and he felt Allora's lips on his neck, her hands beginning to wander over his chest. His heart was hammering and he was so excited that he started to feel a little light headed.

"Ahem!"

The three of them jerked, and as Mitchell pulled himself up for air, he saw Gilriel standing there, arms crossed, a look half of amusement and half of frustration on her face.

"You were supposed to be getting ready, Lord Captain. We don't have time for that this morning. Save it for after the battle."

Allora stepped away, her face red.

"Of course, you are right," she said, smoothing her shirt where Mitchell and Lethelin's hands had pulled it up out of place.

"Sorry, Gilriel," Mitchell told her sheepishly. "Just got a little carried away. We'll be ready shortly."

"Mmhmm," the old commander said, then wobbled her head and headed back up the steps.

"Falen will be here soon," Allora reminded them. "We really must hurry."

Lethelin had a look on her face that suggested she was ready to chuck the whole thing and drag them all to bed, but seeing the resolve on Allora's face, she opted for a string of curses instead, and then helped the flushed knight get her armor ready.

"I'll meet you both upstairs," Mitchell said, and took his leave, his mind swimming with possibilities.

Chapter 85

Mitchell stared, struck mute as he watched Allora emerge in full armor. She strode like a warrior queen into the courtyard of the Mighty Nine where they were all assembled. The purple and black leather hugged her form, flowing over her torso like a second skin. Its pauldrons, rather than being up around her shoulders, were set lower on her arms leaving her chest exposed, her breasts on proud display. One of the first thoughts that entered Mitchell's mind--besides how bad-ass she looked--was boob armor. It definitely didn't look practical, but he could not pull his eyes away from all that exposed flesh.

The suit pulled in tight around her hips and there was a flowing center piece that went down between her legs and stopped just above the knee with her legs exposed on either side. She had even swapped out her ornate krisa, that was made of silver and gold wire, to a metallic headband that was the same color as the pauldrons, and the buckles of her armor. Her sword hung in its scabbard on her left side and she stood tall and proud, her violet eyes fierce and determined. She moved with a deadly grace that he hadn't really seen in her before. Something about being in her armor changed her whole demeanor. The other clothes she wore were an affectation. A costume, of sorts. In those, she was Allora De Annen, the elf. Strong and proud, to be sure. But in her armor, she was an Onyx Knight, an elite warrior standing tall on the shoulders of a tradition that went back nearly a thousand years. She was magnificent.

All around him, the assembled knights and even Lethelin bowed as she entered, each of them imparting a greeting to their lord captain. Only Mitchell remained standing, wide eyed at the transformation that had come over her.

"Allora, you look..." Mitchell tried to put it into words but he found he didn't quite know how to express it. "Damn."

Her eyes flicked to his and he could see that his shock pleased her. The corner of her mouth ticked up ever so slightly and then she turned her attention back to the rest of their party.

"Arise," she told the others, and they all did as one, the quiet courtyard filled with the sound of creaking leather and the metallic rustle of chainmail. It was then that he noticed the stark difference between the armor of all the others. Gilriel and the errant knights all wore much more practical attire suitable for heavy combat. Full plate, chainmail, thick leather gambesons, the whole nine yards. But while the women, Gilriel and Elrin, were still fine to look upon, their armor had none of the exposed flesh of Allora's.

Allora picked up on his confusion quickly as she saw him studying their gear and hers.

"This is my ceremonial armor," she explained. "I was wearing it the night of the coup, and fled the palace with it. My battle armor is likely still in the palace."

"This," she gestured to her exposed chest, "is a little more... decorative than my other set, but enchantments built into the metal offer nearly as much protection once they are activated."

When she drew his attention to it, Mitchell could indeed see the runes worked into the metal of the pauldrons and bracers.

"They function as a sort of shield spell but, because they rely on the storage capacity of the gems worked into the armor, they will fail after a time."

"As long as you'll be safe in it."

"She will be," Gilriel said coming up beside him. "Safe enough, at any rate. I wish we had time to get you into a proper set, my lord."

Gilriel eyed the second-hand armor that Mitchell was still wearing and frowned.

"But with Allora and Lethelin at your side, I think you'll be as safe as can be for now."

Lethelin came up and stood by Allora, her eyes moving over the knight's bare flesh hungrily.

"If we make it through all this, can you wear that to bed?"

Gilriel groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Stollar's cock, girl. Keep your pants on!"

"I wouldn't mind, either," Mitchell agreed.

Allora tried unsuccessfully to suppress a grin.

"Focus, please, the both of you," Allora reminded them.

"You're right, sorry," Mitchell told her and cleared his throat.

Then he turned his attention back to the knights group.

Out beyond the courtyard walls of the inn that had sheltered them these last few days, the sounds of commotion could already be heard. Alarm bells and whistles had filled the pre-dawn hours and more than once the sound of rushing soldiers or guardsman had been heard charging down the street. The smell of smoke was heavy in the cool air and the sky was just beginning to lighten in the east.

"Can you cast the language spell on us, Allora? I have some things I want to say, and I don't trust my Common enough to get it right."

It had been some time since she'd needed to use the language spell on him, but she did it without hesitation. He felt the tingle of the spell settle over him and saw a few of the others shiver as well as the spell settled over the entire group.

With Allora standing on his right and Lethelin on his left, Mitchell met the eyes of each member of his strike team. He could feel the weight of their expectation bearing down on him like a mountain. Everything had been building towards this. He was their monarch and they were charging into battle on his command. Their lives were in his hands and some or all of them might not live to see another dawn. The responsibility of it was enough to make his knees weak. Still, he inhaled and set his shoulders.

"I'm not one for big speeches," he began slowly, "but I wanted to take a few moments before we depart to speak with you."

He felt Allora's fingers find his, and she gripped his hand tightly. When he spoke again, his voice was stronger than before.

"You all had your reasons for leaving and I thank you for returning to help us retake the city. I am a stranger in this land, as I'm sure you have all figured out. Allora brought me here from the human home world just a few months ago. I arrived unable to use magic or a sword, nor could I even speak Common. But through her strength, guidance, and wisdom, I stand ready to fight alongside you to take back the city and, from there, drive out the invaders that have brought such ruin to the land you all call home. To the land that I now call home, as well.

"Outside these thin walls lies a storm we might not return from. We have a whole city of enemy soldiers aligned against us, and guardsmen whose loyalty we cannot trust. Some might say charging into that is foolishness to the point of madness. And maybe they're right. But I call it courage.

"Since I have arrived in this land, I have heard stories about the unmatched skill and bravery of the Onyx Knights. How, through your strength of arms and dedication to your duty, you helped maintain a peace and prosperity that has lasted nearly a thousand years.

"That peace was shattered and the knights nearly broken. Much was lost in that terrible attack two years ago, and I know that you all grieve. But I also know this: outside these walls, the enemy is terrified. The city is filled with soldiers all sent to track down one single Onyx Knight and we have gathered seven to greet them. If only one could inspire such terror, what could seven do?

"Through the help of our allies, the soldiers are exhausted, stretched thin, and ill-prepared for the hellfire we are about to unleash. And hellfire it will be. The vengeance of a nation is about to descend on them. The might of eight hundred years of battle-hardened steel, and elemental magic.

"So, look to the knight beside you. That is your shield. That is your strength. Together, we shall give the people something that they will speak of for generations--a tale of the last Onyx Knights who stood in unyielding defiance, of warriors who stood unbroken in the face of impossible odds. Knights who brought justice to the wicked, and revenge for our fallen brothers and sisters.

"This is our moment. Let us write it with courage, with sacrifice, and with love for Awen, and the land she has made bountiful for us. To battle, my friends. To victory!"

As the final words left his mouth, Mitchell felt suddenly drained. He didn't know where that speech had come from, but he felt the truth of every word as he spoke it. Drawing in a deep breath, he refocused on the assembled warriors and saw tears in some eyes, and expressions of terrible determination on others. The courtyard was silent and Mitchell turned to Allora only to find her already looking at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

"How'd I--"

Allora flung her arms around him and kissed him so hard she almost knocked him over.

"Yaay!" Mitchell suddenly heard Khardin scream into the stillness. "Hellfire indeed, aye!"

Allora pulled away, laughing and sniffling.

"My lord," she said breathlessly. "That was amazing!"

"Really?" Mitchell felt the heat begin to build in his cheeks.

He looked back at the fighters and as he did, Eldrick and Elrin both saluted in unison, hand to heart, lips, and head. Their matching coppery-red eyes alight with righteous fury. Vanthalla had drawn both of her blades and had crossed them over her chest. As he looked at her, she bowed low. Gilriel drew her sword in a flourish and, much like that day she named Allora Lord Captain, placed the point into the ground and knelt before him.

"To battle, my lord Mitchell," she said, her voice tight with emotion. "To victory."

"To battle!" Hackett cried out, arising from his bow and executing a sharp salute. "To victory!"

"To battle!" Khardin screamed again, thrusting his great axe into the air. "We'll send these dirt-licking jivi fuckers to the darkness, aye!"

"Balls and fucking taint," Lethelin said, staring at him. "Where did you learn to talk like that?"

"It's almost enough to make me join up myself," came a new voice behind them.

Mitchell spun towards the inn to see Falen sanding there, two of his bodyguards flanking on either side. He had forsaken his stylish toga-like garments for a set of leather armor. He had a longsword at his hip and a dagger on the other side. Mitchell could make out the slight glint of runes worked into the armor, as well.

"Right on time," Mitchell said, smiling at the crime boss.

"I didn't come alone, either."

Falen's eyes flicked up to the trees in the courtyard and Mitchell followed his gaze to a patch of shadow high up that had glittering green eyes. Mitchell smiled.

"Everyone," Mitchell called out into the sounds of jubilation. "There's just one more thing..."

"Oh balls," Lethelin muttered, as she spotted Vras up in the trees as well and knowing what was about to happen. "This ought to be good."

***

"I enlisted the help of another edrokii and, between the two of us, we've sent the watch into a frenzy. It cost me one of my best gambling dens to get him to agree to it, but I'm sure you're good for it," Falen said with a wicked smile.

"Have the gates been closed?"

"Just after midnight," Falen confirmed. "Mysterious fires broke out at every guard station and watch barracks. The fire teams have all been bribed to stay home and so most of them have burned to the ground. If fires spread to buildings, they will work to control those, but won't give any help to any military positions. I've got wagons and carts clogging up every main thoroughfare in the city at various points. As soon as the soldiers would clear one, three more would show up, and they were getting sniped at the entire time. I've had my mages and archers picking off any soldier caught walking alone, and they travel in groups of at least three or four now. My spies tell me they've been working non-stop trying to get a handle on the situation since yesterday morning. They're exhausted and have taken a fair number of losses."

"That's what we wanted," Mitchell said as they crept to the end of the street.

"The outer city has mostly been abandoned and they've pulled back towards the palace and have been fortifying it as best they could under the assaults. We've had less success there as hit-and-run tactics don't work well against fortified positions. But they know we're coming. They're prepared."

"It's alright, I expected that," Mitchell told him. "And they're not prepared for what's coming. Are the runes in place?"

"They should be. I had the team running all day yesterday hiding them at every large intersection in the city and several of the smaller ones."

They all crouched low under the awning of a glassblower's shop and Mitchell signaled for Khardin to come to the front of the column. The big dwarf edged around Vras, doing his best not to touch a single strand of fur on the shadow cat's body, nearly scampering away once he was clear.

"Balls and bloody fucking taint," he mumbled as he came up next to Mitchell. "Balls and taint!"

The dwarf was actually shuddering at having to be in close proximity to such a creature but he mastered himself.

"Aye, my lord."

"The runes are in place. Are you sure this will work?"

"It's an easy enough spell, my lord, aye. It won't last but a minute or two as the ink and paper won't withstand much mana before it burns out, but it should be enough, aye."

"What gave you this idea?" Falen asked him.

Mitchell shrugged.

"The way everyone talked about the knights. They are like the soul of Awenor. A symbol to the whole nation of its power. Lethelin told me once that seeing them killed was like watching the Skybreaker Peaks crumble to dust. The people lost the will to fight without the knights to rally behind. But if they learn that the knights are still alive and are fighting for the city, I'm betting a good number of people will show up to help us."

"That's right!" Lethelin said from behind. "I gave him the idea. That was mine!"

Mitchell chuckled.

"Whenever you're ready, Khardin."

Khardin withdrew a small piece of metal from somewhere inside his armor. On it, a rune had been etched that he'd said was for a spell called thaumaturgy. It could create a few different sensory effects, depending on how the rune was constructed and, for today, it would work as a microphone.

When Mitchell had been discussing the best way to announce the return of the Onyx Knights the day before, Khardin said he could use thaumaturgy to increase the volume of his voice so that anyone within a half a kilometer would hear it if he yelled loudly enough, but it wouldn't reach the entire city. Gilriel, a master-level enchanter, had asked him if the spell could be transmitted through linked runes. Through some trial and error, they'd figured out how to link connecting runes to broadcast his message just like a microphone would on Earth. Mitchell marveled at the ingenuity of it and remembered Luvari telling him not to underestimate the people here just because they didn't use electricity.

"Once its charged, just speak into it, my lord captain, aye. It should carry to all the runes that they've placed around the city."

Allora nodded, and cleared her throat.

"I am ready."

A stone on Khardin's krisa glowed and Mitchell saw light begin to fill the rune etched into the metal plate. He then handed it to Allora, who brought it in front of her mouth. Taking a deep breath, she began her short, prepared speech.

"People of Lorivin, my name is Allora De Annen, Onyx Knight, daughter of Lord Captain Travelor Ne Annen, and defender of Awenor."

All across the city Allora's voice boomed out and echoed down the streets. Several members of the party gasped at the sound and stared in awe at the dawn sky where Allora's voice boomed like a message from the heavens.

Allora continued, knowing she didn't have long before the weak paper runes burned out.

"I have come to reclaim the city from the invaders but I need your help. Arise from your beds and march on the palace. The Onyx Knights have returned. Help us now to take back the city. Now is the time! Stand with us!"

Khardin did something and the message repeated once more, filling the quiet streets with her commanding voice. It had been decided that she should be the one to give the message because all knew that she lived and was being hunted.

The message began a third time, but didn't get halfway through before it abruptly cut off.

"That's it then, aye. The runes have burned out."

"It was enough," Mitchell said. "Thank you, Khardin."

"What do we do now?" Lethelin asked.

"Shh!" Mitchell said. "Listen."

"I don't hear any---" then the thief's voice cut out as the sound made it to her ears.

Shouting. It was faint at first, and they couldn't pinpoint the location, but it was growing. It wasn't long before shouting came from one or two streets over. Then on their very own street. People opened windows and doors, some looking like they'd barely slept. The shouts that had been indistinct were becoming clearer now.

"The knights have returned!"

"To the palace!"

"Allora!"

"March on the palace! The knights have returned!"

And it continued on. Soon, the shouts echoing across the city were just as loud as Allora's voice had been. From their huddled position in the shadows of the darkened shop, they watched as people began filing out of homes and storefronts. Some carried weapons, work tools, pots or pans, kitchen knives, and some carried nothing at all, but their voices were raised.

"We march!" came the cry.

"For the Knights!"

"For Awen!"

"For Allora!"

Mitchell grabbed Allora, pulled her close and kissed her.

"They're marching for you, love," he told her. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, her face determined.

"Knights, form up," Mitchell called to his squad. "Keep Vras at the center until we engage the enemy."

Everyone signaled their readiness and as one, they got up and joined the mass of people. They were all wearing cloaks to hide their armor until they got closer and few people took notice of them as they began to push towards the palace. Just a few more citizens of Lorivin off to march on the palace.

"Here we go," Mitchell said.