The Onyx Throne - Ch.86-88

Chapter 86

"Left here," Falen said as they split away from the main column of people marching the last kilometer or so to the palace. "The main roads are going to be the most crowded, but I've picked a spot that should see us clear of the main press of bodies."

"Will we run into patrols?" Allora asked.

"Likely," he answered, as he peeked around a corner. "We've pushed them back into the Cloud District, but they aren't exactly hiding in holes. The last reports I got said they were setting up defensive positions all over the place."

The brightening sky revealed more of the mostly empty streets as people funneled themselves to the main avenues as Falen had predicted. Mitchell noticed that the closer they got to the Cloud District, the nicer the buildings and homes became.

"Guard post up ahead," Falen called back as they turned a corner. "About forty meters up the road."

They were close now. Mitchell could see the walls of the palace about half a mile distant, the protective shield glimmering in the dawn light. The shouts of the enraged populace filled the air almost like white noise. It reminded Mitchell of being outside a packed stadium.

"Any civilians in the street?" Mitchell asked him.

Falen poked his head out again and nodded.

"Looks like a handful of citizens throwing rocks at the soldiers and guardsman from cover," he reported. "I count at least ten behind some hastily built barricades but there may be more. Three bodies on the street."

"It sounds like there was a small engagement here," Allora said, then looked to Mitchell. "How do you want to proceed?"

Realistically, Mitchell knew there was no way to get close to the palace without engaging with the enemy forces at some point. But once a fight kicked off, it would likely draw attention and make getting to the shield that much harder. Still, it could not be avoided.

"Should we go for a frontal assault?" Mitchell asked no one in particular.

"That's always been my favorite, aye," Khardin weighed in.

"Says the dwarf in full plate," Hackett noted sardonically.

"Hide behind me, and you'll be fine, aye," the grizzled old dwarf gave the halfling a wink.

Mitchell saw Lethelin then, eyeing the building they were pressed against. He knew that look by now.

"What are you thinking, Leth?"

She gave him a distracted look and shrugged.

"The buildings here are all pressed together."

"Okay..."

"Well, I could scale this pretty easily, run across the rooftops and get behind them, then create a distraction and you can do the frontal assault when their backs are turned."

"That would work," Gilriel said. "They're focused on the street ahead of them. Likely they think their backs are covered."

Without warning, a black shape leapt up from the center of their group, and Mitchell heard the sound of six sets of claws digging into the wood of the building. In seconds, Vras had disappeared over the edge of the roof nearly thirty feet up.

"Stollar's cock!" Vanthella swore and jerked so hard she almost dropped her blades. Hackett was pale as well.

"He's so fast," Eldrick said. "Balls..."

"I think he likes the idea," Allora said, trying to hide her grin. She was well used to the shadow cat by this point but Mitchell knew the others were barely keeping it together being so close his little murder death ball.

As they all stared at the edge where Vras had disappeared, his head suddenly popped over the lip and stared down at them. Mitchell chuckled.

"Go for it, Leth. We'll wait for your signal."

She grinned at him, then pulled up the edge of her cloak, which had become a nondescript gray color. Immediately her edges blurred and several of the knights swore at the display. This was new to them, as well.

At this distance, the enchantments were ineffective so everyone in Mitchell's party saw her hazy form leap for a trellis decorating the outside of the building, perhaps manor home or hotel, and she began to climb. They lost sight of her before she reached the top though, and only the sound of the occasional grunt and the scrape of a boot told them of her assent.

"You keep very interesting friends, my lord Mitchell," Eldrick said as he squinted trying to see where Lethelin had gone.

Mitchell just smiled.

"Everyone get ready," he told them.

"Did we decide on a signal?" Elrin asked.

"Knowing Vras, you'll just have to listen for the screams," Mitchell told her.

"Ha!" the elfin woman said, thinking he was joking. When he didn't smile back, her face went flat and she muttered something under her breath in a language he didn't recognize, so assumed it must have been Elvish.

The group shed their cloaks. Once the encounter started, there would be no point in hiding anymore.

"Try to use magic sparingly," Gilriel cautioned everyone. "This is a small engagement, and there will be bigger fights after this. We don't want anyone running out of mana too quickly."

They all nodded their agreement and Allora stepped up next to Mitchell.

"Stay close," she advised him. "I will catch any offensive magic with my sword until we close with them."

"Sounds like a plan," he told her.

Right on cue, the first scream ripped through the morning air. Not needing any further encouragement, then group broke from cover and began to charge down the street.

Mitchell's heart was pounding in his chest and it felt like everything was happening too quickly. In his peripheral vision, he saw the shocked looks of the citizens who'd been hiding behind whatever they could find to taunt and throw things at the soldiers behind the barricade. He saw the bodies of three people on the ground, one with two arrows in the chest and two more that looked scorched by magic. Then he focused on the barrier up ahead. It consisted of two large carts and some crates that had been spaced across the road. The carts were about chest high and allowed the soldiers to see over it clearly, while ducking if they needed to. At the moment, every head was turned away from the charging squad and there was a lot of shouting. As he watched, an arrow suddenly sprouted from the neck of one of the soldiers behind the makeshift wall and the man dropped like a stone.

Beside him, Allora held out her hand and Mitchell saw the air ripple in front of her outstretched palm. He felt a strange vibrating pressure on his eardrums as the distortion hit the piled crates that Mitchell had been prepared to vault over. The move was unnecessary though as the spell shattered a hole through the assembled debris wide enough for the two of them to pass right through it. The explosion finally alerted the panicked soldiers to their presence, and the real fight began.

Mitchell cut down the first man just beyond the carts as he turned in response to the noise. He pushed through, trying to make sure he left enough room behind him that the others could enter the opening without clogging it, and found himself surrounded by four enemy soldiers. Their eyes were wide at the incursion but they recovered quickly. One of them fired off a spell, but Allora was there, the defensive magic of her sword stopping it before it could make contact.

"It's her!" someone screamed. "Sound the alarm!"

Almost as one, Mitchell and Allora rushed at the soldiers, and behind him he heard the others engage as well.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of black and suddenly the one who had cast the spell was ripped from his feet and hit the ground without his head. In the heat of battle, Mitchell didn't have time to marvel at the speed at which Vras had just decapitated a man.

One of the soldiers came in, sword flashing, and Mitchell caught it on his own, before shoving and following up with a series of slashes that were faster than the human eye could track. In seconds, the poor bastard lay dying on the cobbles. It was almost comical how slowly the soldier seemed to move compared to what Mitchell was able to do. He turned to see Allora taking the head off another man.

"That one's running!" Hackett shouted and Mitchell turned to see one of the soldiers running for all he was worth towards the next intersection.

The halfling brought up his bow but he needn't have bothered. An arrow came streaking down from the rooftops and took him in his back. The man screamed and fell, skidding a few feet before coming to a stop. Despite her accuracy, Lethelin's shot had not killed him. He crawled feebly, his whimpers just barely audible over the quiet roar of the protests a few streets over. Before anyone else could do anything, Vras appeared from a balcony just above the man, dropped silently down onto the injured man's back and took his neck in his powerful jaws. The crack of shattered vertebrae made Mitchell twitch as he watched the man's body jerk and then go still.

The shadow cat shook the body for good measure, then looked back down the street at the assembled party. He licked his lips and came trotting up to Mitchell and bumped his head against Mitchell's side. It wasn't that long ago that his head barely reached Mitchell's thigh.

"Good job," he told the creature.

"You saw him rip that whoreson's head clean off, right?" Eldrick said. "We all saw that?"

Elrin and Khardin both nodded.

"I haven't decided yet if this is madness or genius," Vanthella said as she watched Mitchell scratch Vras behind the ears.

"Is there much difference?" Mitchell asked her. "He fights for us and he knows who the bad guys are."

Vanthalla shuddered and nodded but he noticed that she had a very hard time looking directly at Vras.

As Mitchell scanned around, he saw that the group wasn't even breathing hard. Around him lay twelve dead soldiers and none of his people had a scratch on them.

There was a sound behind them and they all jumped, weapons ready. It was the handful of civilians that had been harrying the now-dead soldiers.

"It's really her," one young man said.

"And more knights!" a woman called out. "The stories were true!"

Allora stepped up to greet them.

"The stories are true," she confirmed. "Tell others. We will take back the palace today. Go, quickly now."

They all nodded and ran down the street as fast as their feet would carry them, already shouting for all they were worth.

"We should get moving, aye. The palace isn't taken yet," the burly dwarf said.

Mitchell nodded.

"Form up, same as before. Double time," he told them.

"What's that, my lord?" Hackett asked, giving him a quizzical look.

"It means a quick jog."

"Ah," the halfling said. "Understood, my lord."

Vras bumped him and he looked down at Vras's gore-covered maw.

"What is it?"

"I will prowl from above with Maula," Vras said.

Mitchell stared up at the rooftops, seeing Lethelin perched there, waiting.

"You good up there?" he called to her.

She extended her pinky and thumb, which was their thumbs up equivalent, and he looked back at Vras.

"Okay, I like that idea. Keep her safe, and join in when you see us doing battle."

Vras flicked his ears, and loped up to the nearest building, his six legs gliding him smoothly over the ground. He found one with a balcony and, with barely a pause, leapt up to the second story, clearing the iron railing with a few feet to spare, then dug into the wall and raced up the side of the structure as gracefully as a spider.

"That was nearly four meters he jumped," Vanthella said. "Vertical."

"And he's not even fully grown yet," Mitchell told her, unable to hide the wicked smile.

"Denass, mother of darkness and night, protect us," Vanthella whispered.

With Lethelin and Vras on overwatch, the rest of them started jogging down the street towards the palace and the growing noise.

***

"Oh, look at that," Lethelin said as she hopped a small gap and peered ahead through the thin layer of smoke towards the end of the row of buildings. "They have soldiers up here. Maybe they aren't completely stupid."

They'd fought their way through two more barricades and one patrol and were getting close to the palace. So far, she had not been impressed with the quality of the troops they'd been facing, but then she had to remind herself that her allies were not regular soldiers. She was watching what seven Onyx Knights could do. Lethelin tried not to let herself get cocky, but it was hard. Three direct confrontations and they hadn't lost anyone. Now, on the roofs, she had her first solo challenge. Well, her and Vras, anyway. Honestly, she preferred it this way.

She knew her skills and knew she wasn't a front-line fighter. Her style was all wrong for that. She didn't wear heavy plate and didn't have any sort of magically enchanted armor that would stop a serious blow. Her rapier was no match for a long sword, nor would she be all that effective against someone fully armored like that dwarf. She worked best from the shadows, moving unseen, and sneaking up on her opponents. She was fine with people not even knowing it was her that killed them. So, what to do with the group in front of her?

There were four men dressed in city guardsmen colors and at least one of them was a caster. She knew that Allora wanted them to try and go easy on the city guardsmen since most of them were local but with the state of things, they couldn't be trusted. And she also didn't have much time to decide as the others would outpace her on the road.

"I guess we can offer them a chance," Lethelin said to her companion. "If they don't surrender, then we can kill them. What do you think."

Vras looked at her with his glowing green eyes and flicked his ears, which she had learned from Mitchell was his way of agreeing. She didn't want to think about the mind of the creature that could understand her enough to give agreement to a hypothetical, so she just rolled with it.

"Quiet then," she said. "Let's get a little closer so I can offer them the chance to surrender. If they don't, I guess you get to play a little more."

She walked slowly forward another five or six meters, close enough to hear their conversation over the roar of the protests on the street below.

"Was that the signal?" one of them called out.

"No, not yet," another answered.

"Well, keep your eyes open."

"It likely won't come unless they push through the barricades around the palace," the one with the sevith said.

"I almost hope they do," the first man said. "Then we'll see how rebellious they're feeling when the arrows and spells start flying."

That told Lethelin a lot, but still, she had to try.

"I'm going to give you nice boys one chance to lay down your arms and surrender," she called out from behind the chimney she'd posted up at. "If you don't, you're all going to die."

The men spun around, weapons ready but she knew they wouldn't be able to see her with her cloak up. She hadn't gotten that close.

"I don't see anyone," the caster said.

"I fight with Allora De Annen and the new monarch. Last chance. Drop your weapons and retreat. I'd rather see you all dead, but I promised Allora I'd try not to kill guardsmen."

"Fuck off, bitch, wherever you are. Pop your head up and we'll make it quick."

"Well, Allora, I did try," she said, and loosed an arrow. When she looked down, Vras had already slinked away.

She supposed that, from the guardsmen's point of view, the arrow that suddenly streaked across the rooftops and into the biggest one's left eye appeared as if by magic. As his body toppled over the edge, Vras darted in from the side towards the caster, disemboweling him without even slowing down before he leapt towards the next closest guardsman and bore him to the ground, his jaws ripping out the man's throat. The last man, too stunned to move, never even saw Lethelin as her borrowed rapier emerged from his chest, right around where his heart was.

"Who's the bitch now?" she asked the dying man as his knees buckled and he slid off her blade.

She averted her eyes from what Vras was doing to his fresh corpse, telling herself that it was just meat now.

"Leth?" a voice called up from the street below.

She jogged over the edge and looked down to see Mitchell and the others clustered behind him.

"All good?"

"Yep, all good," she shouted down.

"We're about to come out into the main crowd. Go ahead and come down, we're going to need you down here."

"You got it, Captain Tight Pants!"

Chapter 87

Mitchell hunched low behind the now cleared barricade and stared at the mass of people in front of him. There were thousands, all pushed up against the staggered hastily built defensive wall that the occupying soldiers had thrown together over the last day or two. He noticed the various temporary structures that had been erected around the parkland that extended around the palace on his walk with Falen two days prior, but it had been built up considerably since then.

"I thought you said they were all lazy opportunists," Lethelin complained to Falen. "How did they get so much done in a short time."

The man shrugged.

"Usually they are," he said, his voice flat. "But it looks like someone stuffed a drake down their pants on this one. I'm rather impressed."

"Likely they had plans for this in place already," Gilriel said, her experienced eye scanning the roughly built eight-foot high wall that was keeping the crowds at bay. "Once they got the word, they would have made all haste in building those walls and getting their troops behind them."

"That still seems like a lot of work in a short time," Lethelin grumbled.

"On my world, there were a people called Romans," Mitchell said. "Their soldiers could construct a fortified camp in a few hours, sometimes even under enemy fire. The guard and the soldiers had almost two days."

Lethelin glowered at the wall they were going to have to breach rather than answer. Mitchell understood the feeling. There was a knot of tension building in his stomach at what they were likely going to do and he was desperately trying to find a way not to have to do it.

The walls had been anchored into the soil just beyond the cobbled and gravel surface of the road that ran around the palace. There were even some very basic towers spaced along it at somewhat uneven intervals and, at least from where they were standing, no gate was visible.

The smell of bodies was so strong to Mitchell's improved senses that it had made his eyes water as they closed the last bit of ground and took up their position behind the crowd which let off a low, steady roar punctuated by shouts.

"Allora!"

"For Awenor!"

"Death to Milandris!"

A steady stream of stones and other items were being lobbed at the wall that Mitchell could see through the haze that hung over everything. There were scorch marks all up and down the palisades where people had either thrown spells or this planet's equivalent of Molotov cocktails. The heads that he could see poking up over the crudely sharpened stakes mostly ignored the physical objects, but Mitchell had gotten a clear view of what happened when someone used magic.

The reaction had been instant. Spell casters had popped up, followed by archers and they focused on whatever area the assault had come from, blanketing the area with arrows and magical attacks, often leaving several dead or wounded.

"Wouldn't take much to knock the wall down," Vanthella said, to Mitchell's surprise. The woman had rarely spoken in the time that Mitchell had known her.

"Aye," Khardin agreed. "But..."

"But it will get a lot of people killed, won't it?" Mitchell asked, that knot in his stomach becoming something akin to a cannonball. He had made much the same assessment.

"Aye," Khardin said, his tone regretful. "There's not enough of us to charge the wall without the help of the crowd."

Anyone getting too close to the wall or using magic to try and breech it was fired on immediately. Enough had already been killed or wounded that the crowd, for all their anger, were reluctant to cross the last couple of meters and attack the barrier head on. But Mitchell knew that getting the crowd to push forward was their only way through. The wall was not meant to sustain any sort of serious attack, just as those old Roman marching camps weren't. They were meant to slow people down and, hopefully, kill or capture Allora in the chaos. They knew she was coming so all they really had to do was wait for her to stick her head up.

"Lethelin," Allora asked, "did you get a look at what was beyond the wall when you were on the roofs?"

"I did," she said, looking back at her. "I saw pockets of troops, maybe ten or twelve, standing idle at various points. My guess is they're reserves, there to act if there's a break in the wall."

Allora nodded her agreement.

"I've an idea, my lord, aye," Khardin said suddenly.

"Let's hear it," Mitchell said, looking for anything that would help minimize the civilian casualties.

"Well, my lord, it would be better if Stollar ceded the sky to Denass for the day, but after seeing what your... um... the... uh..."

Khardin eyes darted to where Vras sat patiently licking blood from his many claws and his eyes darted away so fast that Mitchell thought for a moment they would fly out of his head.

"Vras," Mitchell offered.

"Aye, Vras," he spat, shuddering at saying the name. "After seeing how well it... I mean he... how well he did against the other soldiers, how fast. If we could get... him over the walls, it would create an excellent distraction."

"But it's daytime," Mitchell reminded him. "They would see him and a lot of what makes him dangerous would be lost."

"Aye, but I've a spell that might help with that," the dwarf said.

Allora and Gilriel both realized what Khardin was talking about at the same time.

"Denass's Void!" they said in unison.

"Aye!" Khardin said with a smile. "Just so."

Allora saw the confusion on Mitchell's face and quickly explained.

"Denass's Void will create a magical darkness that cannot be seen through except by magical means."

"True sight," Gilriel offered.

"Which none of these whoresons are likely to have," Eldrick said then, sounding like he liked the idea. "And which shadow cats do."

"Vras has this true sight ability?"

"Their abilities are not well known," Allora explained, struggling to be heard over the roar of the gathered masses, "But it is believed that they see through invisibility and through magical darkness. It is believed that they can see magic itself."

Mitchell thought about that for a moment and realized it explained a lot. A memory surfaced of how Vras reacted to the Shadow Glen the first time they'd come upon it. How he seemed to see and sense things that none of them could. Then, there was how the shadow cat had been able to tell Mitchell when there were magic users in a group of enemies. Mitchell hadn't really thought about it at the time, it just seemed like one of the creature's oddities, of which there were many. That would be very useful, indeed.

"So will it move with him?" Mitchell asked.

"Aye," said Khardin, nodding. "I can keep it active for eight, maybe ten minutes."

That was ages in a battle. It would be enough.

Khardin then explained that anyone outside would not be able to see in, it would look like a void moving over the ground. They could shoot into it, of course--it wasn't a shield--but they would be shooting blind. It sounded like an amazing plan. Mitchell relayed it to Vras.

"You can give me the night?" the cat asked, trying to understand the specifics.

"The night will follow you and you can kill without being seen."

"I am gratha," Vras said. "I will taste the blood of many foes."

"Hey, I hate to interrupt, but we're drawing more eyes," Lethelin told the group. "We need to move quickly before we draw eyes we don't want."

Mitchell nodded. They sketched out a very hasty plan that everyone agreed to, then they all turned to face the backs of the crowd that covered the plaza. A lot of people were about to die, he knew. Not all of them bad guys. There were citizens behind that crudely built palisade, city guardsmen who hadn't been given the chance yet to surrender and who might, if they could. But there was no time to negotiate. If they didn't clear that wall and get through the barrier and into throne room, they would all be dead before the sun set.

All around him was chaos but, with the plan settled upon, he found his mind was suddenly calm. The air was filled with the smell of smoke while the acrid scent of sweat and anger clogged his nose like a cloying mist. The sounds of the thousands of people who had gathered to chase out the invaders had become the flat roar of an avalanche racing down the mountain, their occasional shouts like those of trees shattering under the deluge. He could see panicked faces, fearful and angry faces, but also hope as well. The people knew now that the knights were not dead. That their nation was not lost just yet. Mitchell took that hope and made it his own. They were his people now, too. This was his city. Not because he was monarch, or would be when the day was done, but because he believed in it like they did. He believed in Allora, and the knights, and Awen deep underground, and in the history and culture they had forged over the last millennium.

"I knew you would be a fine monarch," Awen suddenly spoke into his mind. Mitchell could hear the smile in her voice. "Fight well."

"Is everyone ready?" Mitchell called out, gripping his sword hilt and flexing his sevith hand. He was unable to keep the grin off his face at Awen's words of encouragement.

More shouts were coming from the back as people spotted the armor of the knights. More people were turning to look and cheer. They had to go now.

"We're ready, my lord, aye!" Khardin yelled, and thrust his giant battle axe forward.

"Aye!" the rest of the group shouted in unison. "For Awenor!"

As one, they stepped out from cover, and charged.

***

"To the wall!" Khardin's magically amplified voice boomed out as they entered the fray. "Break it down! For Allora!"

It took a moment for the throngs of people to get over their shock as suddenly having several fully armed knights in their midst, but then the call began to spread up and down the plaza. Magic began to flare up again as a lot of the people started to attack in earnest.

Allora and Gilriel were at the front, their swords ready to activate the defensive shield if anything came over the wall at them, and in the meantime, Lethelin and Hackett were launching arrows from the back of their two-wide column with deadly accuracy at any of the soldiers that stood up to fire answering volleys at the surging crowd.

Their little formation was noticed soon enough, and Mitchell had to admit, they did stand out. Once they were spotted, he called them to a quick stop.

"Now," Mitchell ordered.

Khardin turned to look at Vras, who had been squeezed tight between them and one of the stones in his krisa glowed. Immediately Mitchell's world went black. Not darkroom black, not moonless night black, but black as though submerged in pitch. Involuntarily, Mitchell felt his chest and throat tighten as some instinct told him that, with such a perfect absence of light, there must also be an absence of air but, after choking momentarily, he regained control of his diaphragm and was able to breath normally. The sounds and smells around him had not changed. He heard several people that were within the radius of the spell scream out in terror as their worlds went black as well. And then, just like that, they were in awash once again in Stollar's morning light.

Mitchell blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to adjust, and saw that Vras was gone. When he looked ahead, the orb of midnight was moving incredibly fast through the crowd of people and he heard the panicked screams of those who were suddenly blinded by his passing. In moments, it was at the wall and, without pausing, the absence of light leapt over the eight-foot-tall barrier as easily as Mitchell would step over a branch in his path. And then the real screams began.

"To the wall!" Mitchell shouted, knowing that they had ten minutes at best before Vras lost the protection of the spell.

The crowd had been pushing forward but the attacks from the other side had kept many back. With Vras on the other side now taking all of the attention, there was no stopping the angry mob. All up and down the line people crashed into the wooden barricade and Mitchell and his squad were in the front row.

Some people began hacking at it with whatever tools they'd brought, others began to dig out at the bottom, assuming the posts couldn't be buried very deep, and still others pushed. Mitchell thought that was the best option given that the structure wasn't very high. He began to push and called the others to do the same. It started to give.

In seconds, a rocking motion began along their section of the wall as people shoved and stepped back, then shoved again. Mitchell could feel the soil loosening beneath his feet as the buried portions began to bulge up to the surface. Cheers went up at the sight of wall beginning to buckle and, with one final heave and the sound of several cracking timbers, the wall collapsed forward enough for them to charge up and over it.

They emerged into a scene of chaos and death. All around the once manicured ground were the bodies of the dead and dying. Mitchell counted at least fifteen as they moved into the park area, weapons at the ready. His eyes darted around, searching for his companion, and saw that several soldiers were crowded around the base of a large tree, firing off spells into a patch of midnight high up in the branches. The sound of the wall cracking and falling drew their attention, however, and Mitchell and his squad charged towards them.

With his heart pounding and rage filling his veins at the idea that they were trying to hurt Vras, he met the first startled soldier and cut him down, before stepping to the next. All around him the sound of steel rang in his ears, followed by the explosion of spells. More than once Allora was there, her pommel stone flashing as she caught attacks meant for him and deflected them wide.

"Thanks, love!" he called out to her as she turned towards a man who had just launched something green and sickly looking at the both of them.

His warrior queen grinned at him savagely, and then took the offending caster's head clean off his shoulders.

In moments, the area around the base of the tree where Vras had been hiding was clear and Mitchell could pause to take a breath. His hair was damp with sweat and he was panting, but he found he wasn't tired. Not really. The adrenaline was pumping too hard for Mitchell to feel fatigued. He felt like he could run a marathon.

He glanced around and saw the wall had come down in several places and fighting was happening in every direction. Up ahead, just seventy or eighty meters away, was the glittering translucent barrier, and then the palace walls. Unfortunately, between them, there were a lot of soldiers.

"They're converging!" Elrin called out. "They know where we are."

Mitchell looked and saw that, across the parkland, squads were yelling and pointing and being drawn in from up and down the line. The fight wasn't nearly done yet.

"You're not worried, are you sister mine?" Eldrick taunted.

"Only that you'll embarrass me in front of our new lord captain and monarch with your shoddy blade work," Elrin shot back, grinning at her sibling.

"A crown a piece, then? Like at that battle in Talinspire?"

"You call that a battle?" she barked a laugh. "They were little more than pirates."

"Still, there were more than fifty of them. And it was just you, me and... what was that other fellow's name?"

"Aye, that was me, ya sniveling dirt lickers!" Khardin snapped, glaring at the twins. "And there weren't fifty, there were only thirty-seven. "Now, look lively. There's killing to be done. I aim to be in a bunk in the palace by lunch, so don't let me catch either of you slacking, aye!"

"Yes, sergeant," they both said grinning in unison.

Mitchell looked to Allora and Lethelin where they stood together at the base of the tree. Lethelin had shouldered her bow and had her rapier in one hand and dagger in the other. Vras was down now, the spell ended, and stood next to Allora. The world was raging all around them but Mitchell had his girls with him and he felt like he could do anything.

"Ready," he asked them.

"Lead the way, my lord," Allora said.

"Nearest gate is to the north," Gilriel said. "There are a lot of soldiers between here and there, but they're mercenaries, mostly. They've been getting fat and lazy. Easy pickings. Everyone swap stones as needed and push north. Let's move!"

Chapter 88

It quickly became apparent to Mitchell that the guardsmen or soldiers they'd had on the shoddy barrier had been there merely to inspire a little fear in the locals. The real danger had been held back in reserve for when the wall was overrun.

As he and the squad turned north to get to the nearest gate, they met the first bit of true resistance, a group of eight soldiers all of whom were better armed and trained than any Mitchell had come up against so far. They seemed used to working as a group and there were two casters among them.

Immediately spells were fired off, shields cast and answering spells thrown on both sides. Mitchell knew that his weaker spells would have little effect against the superior armor worn by the enemies they now faced, so he saved the effort and worked on using his martial skills. Were he a regular guy, he would have been in serious trouble as his few months of training were no match for career soldiers, but the faster reflexes granted to him by the heart stone more than made up for any difficulty.

He could feel his power and, even without the full bonding, he was very close to Awen now. As his blade met his first opponent, it was almost like the guy was fighting drunk. Between his enhanced senses and the adrenaline flooding his system, he could see every twitch the burly soldier made, every turn of the hips or the set of the shoulders that would indicate where the man was going with his next strike. Mitchell wasn't an expert by any means, but he didn't have to be with his senses and his mind in overdrive like that. It was as though Mitchell were reading a book as his mind processed all the little bits of information and it allowed him to overcome the vast gulf between his training and theirs.

Around him, he caught glimpses of the battle raging. Thankfully, he saw many guardsmen who had defected and were now fighting against the soldiers who had occupied their city for so long. He wanted to go and defend them, but as he struck down the soldier in front of him and another one took his place, he knew that he could not. If he didn't make it to the barrier and into the palace, the people who were fighting and dying for him and Allora would have died for nothing.

"How you holding up?" Mitchell called over to Lethelin as they hacked their way through the first set of soldiers. Of all of them, the thief was at the biggest disadvantage, but she seemed to be doing fairly well and Vras was staying by her side.

"I'd prefer to be sitting up on a rooftop somewhere," she panted as they started to jog foward. "I don't like attacking dead on, but you guys are moving too fast so it's keep up or get left behind."

"You move like a dancer," Vanthella said. "It is most impressive."

If Lethelin's face wasn't already red from exertion, she might have blushed.

"Thank you, Lady Vanthella!"

"Eyes front!" Gilriel called.

And with that, all chatter cut off as they engaged the next series of soldiers. Mitchell lost himself in the ebb and flow of the battle. Everything was noise and chaos. Lighting spells arced through the air, filling his nose with the smell of ozone. Fire scorched the earth and exploded trees, turning the once peaceful parkland into a hellscape. All around were the sounds of screams. Some in triumph, some in pain. As they pushed forward through the troops, they had to turn around and protect their rear more than once as soldiers caught up from behind. Gem stones were being burned through at a prodigious rate as they fought to counter enemy casters and break up formations of troops angling for them. What had started as a run towards the north quickly became a slow crawl. The word was well and truly out and someone was directing the soldiers to hunt them down and stop them.

Wounds started accumulating. Hackett, by far the most skilled healer, was relegated to field medic as he tried to keep everyone in fighting shape. Mitchell also helped out where he could since his few spells were of limited use.

"This isn't working!" Mitchell called out as they fought their way through another group of soldiers. "They're going to wear us down! We need to do something else."

"The gate is only a few hundred meters up ahead," Gilriel said.

"I'm out of mana," Elrin said, panting. She had a blood running down one side of her face and her armor was sporting several new rips, some of which dripped blood.

"I'm running low as well," Hackett said, his face pale from mana drain.

To Mitchell's right just thirty meters away, was the shield.

All around, people were running, looking for soldiers. Many of them looked wounded and exhausted, but they were still fighting. Mitchell's party had found a rare space to catch their breath, hiding in the shadow of a pavilion-like structure but he knew they didn't have much time before they were found.

"Can't we just make a run for the shield here?" he asked.

"Can you get us all through?" Eldrick asked, as he held a cloth to his sister's bleeding head.

"I don't know," Mitchell admitted. "And it might drop completely as soon as I cross over. Awen was unable to give any assurances that it would remain in place long enough for me to get to the throne room. But at this rate, I don't think we can make it to the gate."

"If we were on the inside of the barrier," Allora said, "and we had time before it dropped, we could get to the gate and make it to the throne room without them hounding our steps."

"Or," Elrin said, wincing slightly from the pain, "the barrier collapses as soon as Lord Mitchell crosses and every soldier in the city charges in."

"Six of one, half a dozen of the other," Mitchell said. "Our original plan to get to the gate and bar it behind us is not going to work, I don't think. There's just too many and the people can't be organized to any sort of coordinated defense."

"Maybe if we had had more time to prepare," Falen offered, speaking up for the first time, "but the riot was the best we could do given the circumstances."

Mitchell's mind raced as he tried to make a decision. On the one hand, the barrier might hold out for a short time once he crossed through it. According to Allora, once he had completed the bond and could access the palace defenses, they would win the day. But if the barrier collapsed immediately, it would allow the troops access to every gate and the palace would become overrun in moments. With no monarch on the throne to bring the guardians and defenders online, there would be nothing to stop them.

"Do you think the barrier will last long enough for me to get to the throne room?" Mitchell asked Awen, sending the query through the bond they shared.

"If it begins to fail, I can try to strengthen it, but the more power I push through the wards and gemstones, the more I risk overloading the entire network. It may be that you gain a few minutes of additional protection only to see it collapse all at once, rather than in stages. Every gemstone that fails puts more stress on those remaining. If I channel my power into some they will degrade faster and that could start a cascade failure across the entire system."

"I think we will have to risk it," Mitchell told Awen. "Our plan to cross only at the gate is not going to work. We need to cross now, run for the gate and try to get to the throne room before it collapses completely."

"I will do what I can," Awen said.

Mitchell returned his focus back to the world around him and told them what he wanted to do.

"There is a chance that I won't be able to get you all through and that the barrier will fail entirely once I pass through it. But I don't think we can make it to the gate otherwise. Our best bet is to try and cross here and then run for the gate before the barrier collapses entirely."

"Sounds like we risk the dragon's maw either way," Khardin said.

"Agreed," Hackett said.

Vanthella merely shrugged and Edrick and Elrin nodded in unison.

"What do you want to do?" Allora asked.

"I say we try the barrier. If we keep pushing through, I worry we'll be overrun. Risking the barrier failing gives us the best chance of success."

"Alright then, you heard Lord Mitchell," Gilriel snapped, her old instructor voice like a lash across exposed flesh. "On your feet and make for the barrier. Defensive positions as he passes through and we go from there."

They arose as one, breaking cover. Both in front of their sheltered position and behind, there were squads fighting with citizens, but Mitchell could still hear the call as they were spotted. Without delay, they all broke into a dead sprint as spells and arrows began to fall around them. Mitchell heard someone in the group yell in pain but didn't dare stop to see who it was.

Shield spells were flashing up all around as they tried to get clear of the barrage. Mitchell was sure they were going to make it. Just ten more meters. Then something struck him in leg, his arm and side. It felt like he'd taken three nasty punches and his leg and sword arm went numb as he stumbled. His sword fell from his grasp and someone barreled into him from behind both going down in a tangle of arms and legs.

"Mitchell!" Allora screamed as he struggled to work out what just happened. He looked down and saw blood coming from his leg and arm but whatever had struck him in the chest hadn't penetrated his armor. There was a sudden streak of black as Vras tore across the grass at the spell caster who'd launched the magical assault. The woman's eyes went wide in abject terror as she saw her own death come for her. She tried to backpedal but the shadow cat was too fast.

Vras leapt, all six claws extended, and bore the woman to the ground where he literally shredded her alive in an explosion of blood and viscera. The soldiers who had been charging with her gaped and then Vras was on them, a whirlwind of teeth and claws, many of them dying before they even had a chance to react. The animal tore through their armor as if it were paper, disemboweling one here, hamstringing another there, then casually slashing open a throat as the body fell. Mitchell had never imagined something killing with that kind of speed. It wasn't just his power that made him terrifying, Vras acted with forethought. He was not a mindless killing machine, he was the physical manifestation of death itself. In seconds, all six were dead with Vras at the center of the carnage like the calm eye in a hurricane of pain. Mitchell finally understood why they inspired such fear and it turned his bones to ice.

Soldiers that were nearby and witnessed the display turned and ran as Vras emerged, from the carnage literally dripping in blood.

"Gods above," someone said as Allora knelt beside him, casting healing on his leg and arms.

"What hit me?" Mitchell asked as she pulled him to his feet.

"Arcane missile," she said, checking him over.

"I'm okay," he told her. "Let's go."

Vras's display had broke the nerve of many of the charging soldiers and the citizens and they began to run. Still, Vras wasn't done yet, and began chasing down stragglers, their screams and cries for mercy mixing in with the sounds of battle all around them.

"I could have gone my whole life without seeing someone die like that," Lethelin said, looking a little green around the gills.

"Just remember he's on our side," Mitchell told her, trying to remind himself of that as well.

Mitchell saw Hackett, then, the halfling sporting burns down his left side.

"Are you okay?"

The archer grimaced but nodded.

"Eldritch fire, my lord. I'll be fine. I couldn't get my shield up in time. But the armor took the worst of it."

Mitchell gave the man's uninjured shoulder a squeeze. All of them were carrying wounds of one kind of another, but they were still standing.

"Almost there," he told them.

They moved as fast as their injured bodies would allow and then Mitchell was in front of the barrier for the first time. About five meters beyond it, stood the imposing wall of multicolored onyx stones. Down about twenty feet to his right was one of the guardians. A twenty-foot carving of a male elf holding a giant glaive.

This close, he could see the shimmer of the magical shield, its color a translucent pink. There were small ripples and eddies, almost like it was a liquid. It was beautiful and hypnotic to watch and Mitchell struggled to pull his eyes away from it.

He knew that he needed to place his hand against the barrier and it would allow him entrance. The big question was if the quasi-sentient spell--for he was assured that such large spells like this sometimes took on a life of their own--would allow the others to pass. He had no idea how that would work but now was the time.

"Here we go," he said to no one in particular, and he placed his palm on the barrier.

Immediately he felt a resistance, an almost electrical shock, and the barrier vibrated against his palm. He knew that the initial feeling one got when coming in contact with the barrier was meant to serve as a warning. But if one persisted, the intensity would grow and eventually burn the person to ash.

He felt that tingle against his palm but then it changed abruptly. There was a... presence in his head. It was tentative, he could sense the hesitation as the awareness flowed through him, as it if was seeking to know him. Around Mitchell, the world went quiet and his vision narrowed down to a tiny point just ahead of him, locked on a swirling section of the barrier. As the feeling moved through his arm and into his chest, he felt it connect with something--presumably the heart stone--and there was a sense of recognition. Immediately, Mitchell's hand passed through the substance of the barrier and was through to the other side.

The presence in his mind receded and the world came back into startling focus. Around him his friends had taken up a defensive ring as suddenly there were troops coming from every direction. He didn't know how that had happened but somehow the spell had played with his perception of time. It had felt like only seconds to him, but clearly it had been longer than that. He looked around and saw that Lethelin was on the ground, blood pouring from a wound in her head, and Hackett was trying to heal her. How long had he been out?

"I'm through!" Mitchell screamed, and Allora dared a look back.

"Grab Lethelin, see if she can pass through the barrier with you!" Allora yelled, and fired off a crackling burst of electricity that struck an approaching soldier in his chest and neck setting the man's flesh boiling and causing his eyes to explode. "Hurry!"

Mitchell didn't have to be told twice. He reached down, grabbed Lethelin by the front of her leather armor, and heaved her up over his shoulder and began to push his whole body through the barrier. Suddenly, there was resistance. He felt her body stall at the magical barrier and heard a sizzling sound. The barrier was burning Lethelin's skin.

"No!" Mitchell yelled out. "It's not letting her through!"

"Then leave her! Get to the throne room yourself!" Allora yelled, her sword flashing to stop an arrow. "Awen can guide you there."

"I'm not leaving you all here to die!" Mitchell yelled.

"You must, Mitchell!" Allora said. "It is more important than us!"

Mitchell turned and stared at the barrier. He would not leave them here. He would not do this without them. Not without Allora and Lethelin. There had to be a way!

Mitchell stuck his hand back into the barrier and tried to find that sensation again, that awareness.

"My lord, what are you doing!" Gilriel yelled to him. "Get inside the barrier!"

Mitchell pushed her voice from his mind and focused. Where was it?

"I am the monarch," Mitchell said to the spell, trying to will it to hear him, to understand. "You must let those with me come in as well. I command it."

The seconds ticked like molasses on cold glass.

"Please!" Mitchell begged, hearing his friends fight for their lives behind him. "Please!"

The presence was there, in his mind once more. It was friendly. It didn't speak, Mitchell didn't know how he knew what it was feeling, but he could. Mitchell tried to talk to it. He tried to send it the image of the others and imagined them passing through the barrier.

There was a sense of wrongness in response. The barrier was rejecting them. It was a simple mind that understood only a few basic things. Mitchell could feel it understood its purpose and the exception that was allowed. They were not part of the exception.

"Awen, can you help?" Mitchell said, trying to divide his attention between the barrier consciousness and her. "Can you help it understand? It is a thing of you."

"The barrier is beginning to fail, Mitchell," came Awen's response. Her voice, normally so placid and soothing, contained a note of stress. "I am trying to balance the load."

"It's not letting the others through. Can you influence it?"

"I... I will try."

Seconds ticked by like years. Mitchell wanted to scream in frustration but he knew that wouldn't help.

"I think I have done it," Awen said, sounding almost tired. "Try again."

Without wasting another second Mitchell walked through the barrier with an unconscious Lethelin on his shoulder and she passed through without issue.

"Fuck yeah!" Mitchell screamed in English, and set her down as gently as he could.

He turned then and jumped back through to the other side.

"Everyone grab onto me!" he yelled a fireball struck the combined shields of Eldrick, Elrin, and Gilriel. Khardin screamed out as some of the flames found his flesh.

"To the nine hells with you, you dirt licking sacks of goblin nuts!" the battle-hardened dwarf screamed, and then his krisa flashed so brightly that Mitchell could see it even in the daylight and while standing behind him.

Immediately just in front of the dwarf, a large, green sphere formed in the air, about the size of a basketball, and it streaked toward the line of soldiers that were pressing their advantage. Mitchell saw one or two of the casters' eyes go wide as their shield spells went up but the regular soldiers were not so lucky. The sphere sped straight into their line and exploded with a shower of green liquid that covered everyone within about twenty feet. The screams were deafening as weapons, armor, and flesh began to melt. Only the casters within the blast radius who'd gotten their shields up in time were spared that horrible fate.

"Now!" Mitchell yelled into the pause in the fight that the spell had created. "Grab ahold and get behind the barrier! That's an order!"

The group of harried knights began to take backwards steps, reaching hands back for Mitchell while they tried to maintain focus on the fight. One by one, they found his outstretched arms and then Mitchell practically fell back behind the barrier, several of them landing on top of him, forcing the breath from his lungs.

"You did it, my lord!" Elrin yelled, pulling herself up.

Mitchell saw she was limping badly as she attempted to help the others to their feet.

"Yeah," Mitchell groaned as he sat up. "Come on. We need to hurry. The barrier is failing and we don't have much time.

Even as he spoke, Mitchell heard the sound of explosions coming from within the onyx wall. The gemstones that powered the wards were exploding. The barrier rippled with the sudden failure, even as they watched.

Mitchell leaned down and picked up Lethelin and put her over his shoulder. She was still unconscious.

"Wait, where's Vras?"

"He was harrying their back line the last I saw him," Vanthella said. "He was not with us when you were getting through the barrier."

Mitchell turned and scanned out over the heads of the massing soldiers who were gathering just behind the barrier, shouting and cursing at them, several of them testing the barrier with their weapons, or launching magical attacks.

"My lord, we must go," Gilriel said, her voice pleading. "We need to get you into the throne room before the barrier collapses if we can. The shadow cat can fend for himself."

"I didn't leave you behind, and I'm not leaving him behind," Mitchell said, his voice hard. "But let's get moving toward the gate. Vras will catch up."

They began a half jog, a half walk along the wall, heading for the gate that was close enough for Mitchell to see. The soldiers kept pace with them, promising all manner of revenge, neither he or his group had the energy to fire any taunts back at them. Mitchell heard more popping sounds from within the wall and the barrier shuddered again. Up ahead Mitchell saw a large tree, nearly as high as the wall itself, standing back about forty feet from the wall on the other side of the magical shield. As he watched, a black shape leapt from one of the branches right at the barrier.

"Vras?" Mitchell called out, "No!"

The barrier wouldn't let him through without Mitchell there to hold on to him and it might even kill him if he tried to force his way through.

But, to his utter shock, the shadow cat passed through the barrier and landed on the onyx wall, just near the gate, his claws digging into the stone with enough force that he was able to slide down leaving claw marks and sending shards of onyx flying in all directions. Then he came trotting up as if nothing was amiss and began sniffing at Lethelin's head wound.

They whole party had stopped to stare at him. Even the soldiers had taken several stepped back, no longer trusting the barrier to keep them safe from the shadow cat that had cut down so many of their fellows.

"How did you do that?" Mitchell asked him.

Vras looked at the barrier and then at Mitchell.

"I am gratha," he said, as if that explained everything.

Mitchell pressed for more information.

"There are gaps in this magic," Vras said at last. "When I saw one, I jumped through it."

Mitchell marveled at this creature but before he had time to question any further, there were three more small explosions from within the wall and Mitchell suddenly remembered they had a rather pressing task to complete.

Moving as quickly as they could, they got to the gate. Mitchell placed his hand against the ornate brass as he'd been instructed and he felt that awareness again. From within the frame, there was a click and the door swung open. With Lethelin on his shoulder and Allora at his side, he stepped within the palace walls.