The Onyx Throne Pt. 01 Ch. 12-13

Chapter 12

Allora said nothing for a long moment and then he saw something that he hadn't seen in weeks. She smiled. It was a real smile and it transformed her face. It was like a mask she was wearing had been removed and he was seeing her true self and it dazzled him.

"I--" he started but was cut off.

Allora stepped forward and embraced him in a crushing hug. He felt the breath squeezed from his lungs and his spine popped in more than one place.

"Allora," he gasped. "Can't... breathe!"

She laughed and released him and he sucked in a lungful of air and staggered back feeling slightly dizzy. Hardly a weakling, Mitchell was regarded as being in pretty good shape back home, but the power she packed in her athletic frame was shocking.

"Thank you, Mitchell," she said and sniffled. He saw that her eyes were moist and it was because she was happy this time, not because he had disappointed her. "I knew that Vish had not led me astray!"

"I guess not," Mitchell said and gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "What must I do?"

"You must accept the heart stone. Then we have to get you to the throne in Lorivin to complete the bond and you can take your rightful place as the ruler of Awenor. After that, you lead our forces and drive out Milandris and his mercenaries."

Mitchell blinked.

"Oh, is that all?" he asked. "Well, we should have this wrapped up by next week."

Picking up on his tone, Allora cocked her head slightly.

"Are you mocking me?"

"No, sorry," he replied with a sheepish grin. "Sarcasm is like a second language to me."

He took a deep breath and tried to steer the conversation back on track. "So you said I need to accept the heart stone. How do I do that?"

Allora gave him a reassuring smile and then took his hand in hers.

"Come with me."

Mitchell tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as she pulled him to the back of the wagon where her pack lay. Releasing his hand, she dug around inside and came out with the heart stone in her hand. As her fingers opened and Mitchell saw the glossy black surface once again, he felt it tug at him. His hand almost reached for it involuntarily. He visibly shook himself to try and dispel the feeling that overcame him being this close to it. Allora noticed his reaction this time.

"It is calling to you. It senses the connection."

"How? It's just a rock."

"It is not just a rock, Mitchell. It is a piece of Awen herself, formed from her own body. It is a very powerful magical artifact. This small piece alone is worth a king's ransom."

"Oh," Mitchell said.

He didn't really understand what it meant that it was a part of this Awen creature, but he could hear the truth of her words plainly enough. She spoke about it almost reverently.

Allora moved over to the shelter of the tent and sat down, crossing her long legs, and motioned for him to join her. Once he was sitting across from her, their knees almost touching, she instructed him to take off his shirt.

"Why?"

"It is called the heart stone because it goes over your heart. You need to place it against your chest over your heart and it will be taken into your body."

Mitchell gaped at her.

"You mean that thing is going to go inside me?"

Allora nodded. From the corner of his eye, he saw Revos enter the tent and his eyes quickly took in the situation. Without speaking he sat down a few feet away and watched. Lethelin also looked up from her grisly work prepping the second daka for their dinner. The first one was already cut up and sitting in chunks on a section of tarp she had pulled from somewhere.

"Wait wait, I want to see this too!" Lethelin called over. "Give me a few moments!"

She resumed her butchery with enthusiasm as Mitchell pulled off his shirt.

"Will it hurt?" he asked after he tossed the tattered garment to the ground.

"I... I do not know," Allora admitted and looked slightly embarrassed. "Baylor was made monarch more than seventy years ago. He was near death when the heart stone emerged from his body and I fled with it. If he felt anything, he was too far gone to show it."

Allora's eyes went distant as she recalled the memory.

"He had been grievously wounded in the attack. My father and one of his lieutenants carried him down one of the secret passages away from his chambers. But Milandris's men must have seen the blood trail and they were beating down the door. With his last breath, Baylor placed the heart stone in my hand and my father told me to run. They would guard my escape."

Mitchell saw the grief wash over her face but she controlled it quickly.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Allora gave him a sad smile.

"My father was a superb swordsman and nearly an arcanist himself. He would have killed many before he died. And he died protecting Awenor. There is no more noble death for a knight. "

Her expression hardened.

"And I will avenge him. But I do not know what it is like to take the heart stone into your body."

"Almost done!" Lethelin piped up.

"Listen..." Mitchell said after a moment. "I know you said the spell chose me and I'm supposed to be the guy, but... I don't have any powers like you do. I don't know how to use a sword or shoot a bow and arrow, anything. We don't really use those things where I'm from. Some people do it for sport but I'm not one of them. If you give me an AR-15, I'm a half-decent shot, but I don't think you have those here."

Revos spoke up then.

"What is an arrr fiptin?"

Mitchell glanced sideways at him where he sat nibbling on some of their dried rations.

"It's a weapon on my world. A powerful one. But it's not magical, it's mechanical."

"Of course you have magic, Mitchell Allen," Allora said matter-of-factly. "Every monarch has been at least a witch or a warlock, with most being arcanists. A true mage is a little rarer. There has only been one to assume the throne in the history of Awenor. But at the very least you are a warlock."

"I don't know what that means," Mitchell said, trying not to let his exasperation show. "I mean I understand the words but I don't understand what it means to be one of those things here."

"It has to do with the number of mana types you can channel. Sprites have access to only one type, and mages can access all of them."

"Oh," Mitchell said, still unconvinced. "But I don't feel any magic."

Just then Lethelin came over with her sack of daka meat and began chucking it into their cooking pot that had been set out earlier and was now simmering quietly.

"I will show you," Allora said.

Turning her attention to Lethelin she said, "When you are done washing up will you bring me one of the mage catchers from the compartment under the seat?"

Lethelin dropped the last chunk in and looked between them with uncertainty but decided not to question.

"We could just test him the usual way," Revos said.

"This will be better," Allora told him. "He will see it and feel it."

They waited in awkward silence for a few moments until Lethelin returned with her hands freshly cleaned and holding a pair of the manacles that he'd been imprisoned in for so long. Just seeing the instruments of his captivity again made his guts twist, but he suppressed the feeling.

In Lethelin's other hand, she held the small disk that had been used to unlock them. She handed both to Allora who took them in her fingertips and then went over to sit next to Revos but Allora stopped her and asked her to wait.

Holding up the manacles in front of Mitchell's face she explained.

"These are called mage catchers. They are a simple yet ingenious way for people to imprison those who can use magic. They only work on those who can channel."

Allora looked up at Lethelin and invited her to sit. Allora asked for her hands, put the bands in place, and pushed them closed. Nothing happened. As soon as Allora let go of them they broke apart and dangled limply off of the thief's slender wrists.

"Lethelin has no magical talents," she explained, looking back at Mitchell, "so the mage catchers do not work on her. But," she gestured for him to hold out his wrists, which he did. "If I place them on you..."

Allora plucked the mage catchers off Lethelin's wrists and slid them over his. Once the cool metal came into contact with his skin he felt that familiar sting and the manacles snapped shut so fast that they jumped out of Allora's long fingers. Immediately light began to race along the delicate script that was so intricately carved along every available surface. He felt lightheaded and like he wanted to throw up. His body swayed and Allora had to reach a hand out to steady him.

"What's happening to me," he said a little breathlessly. "It's like... like something is draining the life out of me."

"What you are experiencing is intense and rapid mana drain. It will pass in a moment."

"Take them off!" Mitchell demanded as his body broke out in a cold sweat and his vision went blurry. "Take the fucking things off!"

Allora held up the small disk to the center link of the chains and they clicked open. It was like he could suddenly draw breath again and he shook the manacles off, letting them fall to the sand.

Allora picked it up and pointed to the runes on the cuffs.

"This is a simple light cantrip. It can be used to create small motes of light that a caster can direct or place in an area. Normally they only last for a short time, but this spell form has been modified. It has repeated thousands of times and each one is connected to the one before it in a looping spell form."

Allora pointed to the break where the two halves connected while locked.

"This is a basic locking spell but it's been altered to draw the prisoner's own mana to keep it shut. And then it feeds the mana directly into the light cantrip and will continue to pull the mana from your body, never allowing your reserves to refill."

Mitchell tried to clear his vision and look where she pointed. He could detect how the script around the break was different than that running along the bands and see where they linked up, but it was all nonsense to him. Beautiful scribbles, nothing more.

"Do you remember the headache you felt while you were in the cage? The constant exhaustion?"

Mitchell nodded. "Yes, but I thought that was dehydration and the heat."

"Some of it, yes, but it was also because of the continuous mana drain from the mage catchers. It will not kill you but you will feel terrible."

Mitchell considered all that she said.

"So, I really have magic?"

"Yes. And once you have accepted the heart stone I can begin to teach you the basics of spell crafting and channeling. I am sure Revos will help too."

She looked sidelong at the horned man. "Right?"

Revos merely grunted.

"And I can also begin teaching you the blade," Allora continued.

Lethelin let out a slow appreciative whistle.

"What?" Mitchell asked the thief.

"Being taught the blade by an Onyx Knight?" Lethelin gave Allora an appraising look. "Not many get that opportunity."

"You know, I've always wondered if you lot were as good as they say," she added. "Knights never joined in the festival games and few saw them in action."

Allora's mouth bent into a slight grin.

"Perhaps you and I will spar one day," Allora told her, her voice a little playful.

Mitchell decided he liked seeing her happy. He liked it very much.

A dangerous light came into Lethelin's eyes. Something hungry and eager.

"Maybe," was all she said.

With that, Allora turned her attention back to Mitchell. He thought he saw her eyes slide over his bare chest, but he told himself he was imagining it. Sensing the shift in mood, both Lethelin and Revos focused their attention on him as well. It made Mitchell feel slightly uncomfortable. In the quiet stillness of the night, Mitchell felt a single bead of sweat slide between his shoulder blades.

"So, what do I do?"

"Take the stone," Allora said, holding the bit of polished rock out to him.

Mitchell did as she instructed and plucked the strawberry-sized lump from her outstretched palm. The moment his fingers were around it, he felt a sensation of vertigo. Beneath that, however, was a sense of belonging. This was his. It had always been his. It was meant for him. He knew that like he knew his own name. His heart was pounding in his chest and there was a ringing in his ears. He turned his hand over and stared in wonder at the stone in his palm and it was most definitely glowing now with a steady pulse of purple light, he thought he could hear it calling to him. There was no sound that his ears could detect but something whispered in his mind, just below his comprehension.

Mitchell lost himself in the depths of the small stone. Strange images came to his mind of things he had never seen before, but he felt that he knew them. He saw flashes of forests and rivers and animals that looked similar to deer bounding through tall grass. Mixed among these visions of the wild lands of what Mitchell assumed must be Awenor were villages and towns. He caught glimpses of people moving about their daily lives, laughing, loving, suffering, and dying. He thought he imagined that he could feel the pressure of their feet on his flesh as they walked about. The rumble of wagon wheels were lines of tingling pressure across his body.

But more than anything else he felt life. Life in its purest and most elemental form. He could feel the movement of the planet spinning through the void of this alien universe. He could feel the grinding of tectonic plates miles below him, feel magma coursing through ancient channels like blood in the veins of a fiery colossus. His mind expanded under the onslaught of sensation and he felt as if his consciousness was being seared away by the unfathomable beauty of it. He saw everything and felt them all and in that moment he loved them. He loved every creature, every insect, every beast in the forest, everything that swam, walked, crawled, and yearned for life. His heart wanted to explode at the joy of it.

And then he blinked.

The sensation was gone. As Mitchell's mind once again asserted itself, he felt tears sliding down his face and a painful ache in his chest. He realized he hadn't taken a breath. He struggled to remember how. Then something clicked and his chest heaved as he sucked in the cleanest and most refreshing breath he could ever remember taking.

As his eyes focused back on a world that was almost bland in comparison to what he'd just seen he saw Allora staring at him intently.

"Did you see the visions?"

Mitchell tried to remind himself how to speak.

"I saw..." He groped for the words. "I saw...something. I think it was Awenor. Is it always like that?"

"I think so. As I said, I was not yet born when Baylor took up the heart stone but we studied it when I was young. Visions were a common sign that one was truly suitable to bond with Awenor and accept her gifts."

Mitchell was taken aback by the almost rapturous joy on her face. He realized then that this must have been the culmination of everything she'd fought so hard for since Milandris had attacked. He was the culmination of her struggles. Just then he wanted to run. He wanted to run as far and as fast as he could away from her. He would let her down. He would be the cause of her tears and her death. He--

Mitchell squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his jaw tight.

"No!" he shouted to himself. "That's old you, Mitchell. The new you has magic and you're going to learn how to use a sword from an Onyx Knight, whatever the hell that means. You're going to be the goddamned hero or die trying. You're going to save the kingdom and get the girl!"

Mitchell felt a flush creep into his cheeks at that last part. Of all the stupid, childish fantasies to have. Save the kingdom and get the girl? He knew better than that. But deep down a sliver of hope remained. He tried to focus back on the situation at hand.

"So, I just put it up to my chest?"

Allora nodded. "Over your heart."

Mitchell took a deep breath. Revos and Lethalin stared at him intently.

"Okay, then," Mitchell said, his voice flat. "Here goes nothing."

Mitchell pinched the small stone slightly between his fingers and, without looking, moved it over his chest and rested it just slightly to the left of his sternum. The stone was cool against his skin. It might have been his imagination, but he thought that everyone had stopped breathing.

He felt a tingling sensation begin where the stone touched him and then it went numb. Suddenly the stone was sinking into his flesh. He knew he should feel freaked out that a magic rock was moving into his body but he was strangely calm. He still didn't look at it though, for the same reason he didn't watch them insert the needle into his arm when he donated blood. Everyone knew that if you watched it go in, it hurt more.

Just like that, his fingers were resting on the bare skin of his chest and the stone was gone. He did look then and there wasn't a mark on him.

Mitchell rubbed at the area almost absently as he searched for some trace of a wound, but there was nothing.

"How do you feel?" Allora asked him, her voice tight with anticipation. Her brow was creased with worry.

"I feel fine. I--"

His voice cut off. There was a heat in his chest. Warmth where he had never felt warmth before.

"Wait." The warmth was spreading. "There's a heat."

It wasn't that unpleasant, really. But it was getting warmer. He rubbed at his chest a little harder as if that would help dispel it. It was growing uncomfortable now. The heat that started in his chest was moving up his neck and down his arms.

Allora reached out then and took his hand, squeezing firmly.

"Try to breathe. It will pass."

The heat was increasing now. It had begun to burn. But unlike burns he'd had on the surface of his skin, this was inside of him. Mitchell broke out into a full-body sweat.

"Allora, what's happening?" Mitchell groaned involuntarily as he struggled to inhale through the pain. The fire was everywhere now, from the top of his head to his toes and the pain was increasing. His muscles began to shiver.

Allora grabbed his other hand and wrapped her long fingers around his clenched fist.

"Look at me, Mitchell Allen. Focus on my eyes. It will pass."

"Gahh!" Mitchell cried out.

The heat in his chest had become white hot. He tried to focus on her purple eyes but could no longer see through the tears and the haze of pain. The inferno raged through his veins and he was sure he must be burning alive from the inside. He spasmed then, his body falling backward onto the sand, and began thrashing about. Dimly, he was aware of Allora at his side speaking soothing words to him but his whole world was fire. He heard someone screaming and realized it was him. The fire was all. It consumed him and reduced him to ash. There was no thought, no memory, only the fire. Thankfully he passed out and knew no more.

Chapter 13

Allora heard Revos sit up and stretch. Her own body longed for sleep but she had not moved from Mitchell's side in the hours since he'd lost consciousness. She watched and waited, still holding his hand. Lethalin still slumbered, her soft snores barely noticeable anymore. Revos got up without speaking, went off to relieve himself, and returned a short time later.

"The boy will be fine," Revos said from behind her. "You were right not to tell him. It would have only scared him. He survived."

"I know that," Allora responded, not turning to look at him. "It needed to be done this way,"

Her eyes remained on Mitchell. The purple glow had faded from his veins and his fever had broken about an hour before. The sweat that had poured off him had been thirstily absorbed by the desert sand. His body was now cool and dry.

"You should try to get a few hours of sleep at least."