The Onyx Throne Pt.1 - Ch.28-29

Chapter 28

Allora glanced at the paper in the darkness and checked some of the buildings, and then indicated that they should take the left at the next intersection. 

"You can read that?" Mitchell asked.

She glanced at him briefly before returning her gaze to scan their surroundings. 

"Elves usually have better senses than humans," Allora answered quietly. "We are generally stronger, too. I myself am as strong as an average human man, despite being a female. Most elfin males have even greater strength." 

"That doesn't seem very fair," Mitchell remarked. 

"Humans breed much faster so they usually have a numerical advantage. And magic seems to mix among the various races with equal measure -- with the exception of cambions like Revos, who have magic in their blood." 

Mitchell changed the subject. 

"So that 'Glass Sea' stuff you said to Yarlest. What was that about?" 

"The Glass Sea is on the eastern coast of the continent. It is sacred to the people of Islivaria. Families bring their children to the shore to bathe in it and to be blessed on their seventh name day. It is said to be the resting place of an ancient and forgotten god." 

"Why do they call it the Glass Sea?" 

"Because it has no waves. The surface of the waters are as flat and smooth as a perfect pane of glass." 

"That... doesn't seem possible," Mitchell said, astonished. 

"Yet it is so. It is the dream of every Islivarian to be returned to the waters before the sun sets on the day they have died. It does not usually happen that way, but it is their hope. I only heard of it from delegates that visited the palace when I was young. I gave her a formal greeting that I heard the nobles use and she mistook me for a noble myself." 

They walked through a few more small intersections before Allora found the sign she was looking for. The lantern outside the door was indeed still lit. Without preamble, Allora pushed the door open and they went inside. 

The shop smelled of leather, iron, and dirt. It was decently bright inside despite the late hour and Mitchell could see the shelves full of digging equipment and survival gear of all shapes and sizes. Some of it looked new, or newish, and the rest ran the gamut of slightly used to barely serviceable. Mitchell couldn't imagine why anyone would buy things in such bad condition but it wouldn't be on the shelves if the dwarf who owned the place didn't think someone would take it. 

At the sound of the door, a squat and grizzled old dwarf appeared from behind the counter and gave Mitchell and Allora a quick once over as they approached the counter. He was about five and a half feet tall and had the look of a block of granite that had been softened around the edges with clay with the skin tone to match. His face was broad and flat and his eyes were like glittering pieces of obsidian sunk deep into a worn and wrinkled face. Across his cheek from his ear to his upper lip was a line of four scars that looked to be decades old given the fading. His beard extended below the rim of the counter and it was filled with trinkets and gemstones that had been woven into the coarse hair. His shoulders and arms were broad and thickly muscled and he wore a plain tan shirt of some sort of thick canvas material and leather pants tucked into sturdy workman's boots.

"You would be the one Yarlest sent word about, aye?" 

"I would be. My name is Chell and this is my companion Allanen. We wish to sell what goods we no longer need and buy provisions for a journey over the mountains."

"You can call me Nothok, aye." the gruff man said. He then paused and gave Allora a closer look. "Have you made the passage before? Something about your face be a mite familiar." 

He squinted his coal-black eyes and gave her another up and down. 

"I have crossed the mountains before but it was further south last time," Allora reassured him, trying to sound casual. "We have not met before, master Nothok." 

The dwarf grunted. 

"Aye, maybe it is as you say. Me eyes are as tired as me bones." 

From beneath the counter he pulled out a ledger, opened it before them and produced a quill and ink. 

"Do you recall all that you be wishing to sell? I was led to believe that most of your goods are being stored at Yarlest's place but if you have a recounting, I can give you a rough estimate of the prices I can give ye, aye." 

Over the next few minutes Allora gave him a list of the things they wished to offload, including the wagon and the clorvol. Nothok seemed particularly interested in the beast. 

"How be its temperament? And be it a male or female?"

"Female, and as long as she is fed regularly, she pulls the wagon without complaint," Allora reassured him. "She is a most agreeable beast of burden." 

"Female you say? Aye, that's good. I can fetch a good price for her then, if she be as ye say." 

"Why is that?" Mitchell asked. He remembered he wasn't supposed to talk as soon as the words were out of his mouth but if the dwarf picked up on his very strange accent he didn't show any sign. 

"Clorvols are popular with those that search the desert for lost ruins, or for those who wish to be moving things between the towns and cities out of sight of the Scorpion Guard. And one of good temper that doesn't try to eat those that be sitting on the wagon is even more valuable." 

Nothok offered them a hundred talons for the clorvol, assuming it was as docile as Allora promised, and another fifteen for the wagon and they settled on an even ten for the last enchanted water barrel and the tent that warded off insects. Allora said they would need sturdier camping gear for the mountains. She requested the coin in Awenorian crowns, which seemed to annoy the shopkeeper somewhat, as he said he didn't like doing the calculations and the exchange rate was likely out of date, but Allora allowed him to take two talons off the price for his trouble. 

The next twenty minutes or so was spent going over the gear they would purchase and the supplies. He offered an even exchange for the water barrel for a small sack that he said contained an extra dimensional storage space that would hold enough food for a party of five for up to three weeks. Longer if they rationed it. It also had an enchantment that would slow down spoiling on things like fresh fruit, vegetables, and even meat. Allora accepted the offer as it meant that carrying additional food wouldn't require extra yulops, which Mitchell assumed were some sort of pack animal. 

Throughout the negotiations, Mitchell noticed that the shopkeeper was giving Allora longer and longer looks and, from the tension that entered into Allora's shoulders, he could tell she noticed it too. Her speaking became a little more clipped and she seemed to agree to prices that she might otherwise have negotiated on. 

"And, one final thing, Master Nothok. If it be Stollar's will, we wish to depart in the morning. Before dawn." 

Nothok stared at her for a long moment before blinking again. 

"Good lady Chell, this is a large order, aye. I would ask for at least a day to put this all together. It's already well after sundown." 

"I understand," Allora said and somehow managed to look somewhat embarrassed at her request. "Asking you to put off your sleep is no small matter. If it be Stollar's will I can offer another ten talons to help you find the strength to work through the night." 

The man huffed, looked again at the list of supplies he was expecting to get and then to sell in return, drummed his gnarled fingers on the scarred wood of his sales counter, and finally relented. 

"Aye, ten talons and it will be as the good lady requests. I'll have to wake my lad but we'll see it done. Shall we say five bells? 

"Thank you, Master Nothok," Allora beamed. Her smile even dazzled the tired old dwarf and he looked slightly flustered at her praise. "Five bells." 

Allora gave him a slight bow of her head and they turned to leave. Halfway across the shop to the door the old dwarf suddenly called out, "Allora!" 

She froze and Mitchell almost walked into her back and then he registered what the man had said and his stomach went ice cold. 

Allora turned very slowly and the look on her face made Mitchell want to step away from her until he saw she wasn't directing it at him. Her krisa was glowing and her hand was on the hilt of her sword. Mitchell saw a slight shimmer of the air just in front of one of the gemstones on her headband and the dwarf let out a grunt of surprise. 

Allora stalked back up to the counter and her sword was out and at the dwarf's throat before she came to a full stop. The long blade glinted dangerously off the lanterns and the shopkeeper's eyes crossed as he watched the tip slide between the hair of his beard, which sliced through a section of his beard without parting the strands. The now loose hair drifted slowly to the floor in the shop's still air. He didn't appear to be able to move. Something Allora had done had him bound. 

"If you wish to continue breathing, good master Nothok, you will tell me how you know that name." 

Allora's voice was dangerously low and icy. Mitchell wanted to tell her to stop but he held his tongue. He knew her well enough by now to know that she did nothing without good reason. 

"Name? Aye, what name? I do not be knowing any names. Aye?" 

There was an almost plaintive note in his voice but Allora was not about to be placated. The blade slipped forward another centimeter and the dwarf gasped. Then the words came out of him in a rush.

"A man! Aye, a man! Elfin he was, aye! Came about a week ago, said he was looking for an Elfin woman, aye. Black hair she had, violet eyes, she had, aye! And she would be traveling with a human and a cambion. Went by the name of Allora. Said her family had been searching for her and she was rumored to be in the area. Wealthy family! Desperate to get her back, aye! Was offering a reward." 

"Stollar's hairy asshole," Allora muttered under her breath and Mitchell was somewhat taken aback, even with the possibility of Nothok's death hovering over them. Allora almost never swore. 

She glanced at him and said, "Lock the door, please Allanen." 

Mitchell gave her a level look, but did as she requested. 

Once he was back at her side, she pulled the sword from his skin, but kept it at the ready. 

"It is not my wish to kill you, master Nothok." 

"It is not my wish to be dying, my lady, aye." the dwarf croaked. His face was beaded with sweat and his eyes were darting frantically back and forth between them. Mitchell could see his muscles bunching and relaxing but whatever spell she had wrapped him in held him fast. 

"This man, did he give you his name?" 

"He did, my lady. Dakath he was, aye. Dakath!" 

"Do you know him?" Mitchell asked Allora. 

"No, but that is not surprising." 

Turning her attention back to Nothok, she asked. "How much is the reward?"

"A thousand talons, my lady, aye. A thousand." 

"And would you collect this reward, master Nothok?" 

"Don't see how, my lady. I haven't seen this woman he's being after, aye. Never seen her before, don't know where she is or where she's going, aye. No idea. Aye." 

Allora studied him for a long moment. 

"What do you want to do?" Mitchell asked her. 

She was looking at the dwarf hard and Mitchell followed her gaze to one of the trinkets on his beard. The one that had captured her attention was a small round stone that looked like polished quartz and was about the size of a walnut. It was encircled with six thin bands of gold. While it was one of many such trinkets, this one did seem to occupy a prominent space a few inches directly below his chin.

"Your clan was one of the seven Ilindiran dwarf clans?" 

The dwarf blinked at her, as if he didn't understand the question.

"My lady?" 

"You are a descendent of one of the seven clans of Ilindira?" 

"Aye, my lady. It is so," Nothok replied, the power returning to his voice. "I am from the Blue Mountain clan. Second only to the Crystal Tower itself. Guardians of the Deep Gate, tamers of the Dragon Tongue and forgers of the blade that killed Yuliana Blood Scale herself. Aye!"

Even against the magical bonds that held him the dwarf seemed to swell with pride, as if daring her to challenge him.

After a very pregnant pause, Allora nodded to him and lowered her sword. The next moment she ended the spell that held him which caused Nothok to sag and almost lose his footing. 

"I am not going to kill you, master Nothok." 

"Aye?" he said in confusion as he tried to steady himself.

"I am not going to kill you because we are on the same side. And because you are not going to repeat to anyone that I was here."

"I don't understand, my lady." 

The dwarf looked as if he wanted to bolt but Allora's eyes held him. 

"Neither do I," Mitchell said. 

Rather than reply, she held up her sword but there was no threat in the gesture this time. She laid it gently on the counter and began to take off the wrapping from the hilt that concealed the onyx stone set into the handle. 

The old dwarf gasped.

Allora drew herself to her full height and looked him square in the eyes. 

"I am Allora De Annen, daughter of Travalor Ne Annen, Lord Captain of the Onyx Knights, defender of Awenor, and protector of the elemental Awen. I am the last Onyx Knight, good master Nothok. If I fail in my quest, the usurper Milandris will kill Awen, harvest her geode and the last known elemental will die. And if you seek to collect the reward on my head, the blame for that great crime will fall upon you and your clan. You will then know the shame of the Rock Hound clan and your name shall be cursed in the Crystal Hall for all time, right alongside the betrayers of Ilinde. The choice is yours." 

The shopkeeper's eyes were huge as he stared at Allora and the pallor of his face resembled alabaster more than granite. 

Nothok broke away from her steely gaze, looked at the sword again and then, almost reverently, reached out a cracked and calloused finger and touched the stone in the pommel of her blade. He inhaled sharply when he made contact and snapped his fingers back as if he'd been shocked. 

"It do truly be from Awen herself," he said in a whisper. 

As he cradled his trembling hand, a look of grim resolve crossed his scarred face and a fire lit his eyes as he returned his gaze to Allora. 

"Aye, my lady Allora! You shall have what you be needing and I'll not be saying a word to anyone. On my honor and shall my body be put to sea if I do be breaking it. I swear it to Stollar and vow my soul to Denass's dark abyss should my word prove untrue. Aye!" 

"Thank you, good master Nothok. I am pleased to see that the honor and courage of the Blue Mountain clan has not been exaggerated." 

She bowed to him and he bowed in return. 

"Come," Allora said, turning to Mitchell. "We need to get out of sight." 

Mitchell led the way out of the shop and back into the night filled with questions. The seven dwarf clans of Ilindira? Yuliana Blood Scale? What was the Deep Gate? Every interaction just illustrated how much he didn't know. He added it to the pile as he and Allora walked briskly back to the inn through the empty streets of this little town in the middle of nowhere that had suddenly become a lot more dangerous. 

Chapter 29

Lethelin shifted slightly as she watched the inn's common room. Yarlest saw to a few more customers who wished a warm bed for the night and there were a handful of others that came and went in the hour or so since Mitchell and Allora left, regulars from the looks of them, but otherwise things were uneventful. She could have wished for a better stool but there was nothing for it. 

Small movements didn't break her glamour or whatever it was. Lethelin never did have a proper name for it. She was dun, so it wasn't magic, at least not in the way people like Allora used it. Her mentor had always called it her knack or her talent. Not mystical but also not something just anyone could do, either. As long as her movements were small and slow, the "spell", for lack of a better word, would not be broken. Lethelin carefully scratched her nose before bringing her hand gently back to her lap and returned her eyes to the one customer she'd started watching the most intently. 

He was a gnome and, from conversation she'd overheard, he went by the name of Gwildor. His bald head glinted occasionally off the lanterns hung about the room and he had a shockingly white ring of hair around the crown of his head. One ear was long and pointed and the other had had the tip cut off at some point in the past. Both of them quivered when he laughed, which she knew to be something unique to their race. His face was a scrunched up bunch of wrinkles that looked like something had put their hands on both sides and squeezed. And, like all gnomes, he had a pointy nose that stuck out at least two inches from his face. His clothing was simple laborer's garb, so he was no one particularly important. 

He sat by himself on a stool at the end of the bar and had been putting away a tankard of ale about every fifteen minutes. Lethelin had marked him as a person of interest when he had seemed the most distressed by her absence. He was one of the patrons who had looked at them and then looked away too quickly, but his obvious unhappiness at losing track of her had been a warning sign. 

"Yarly, where did the pretty red-haired woman get off to? I fancied a chat with her," Gwildor had said when he noticed her "missing". 

"She's being right over--" Yarlest had said then stopped when she noticed the table that Lethelin had occupied was empty and she saw no sign of her. "Huh. Girl must have scampered off upstairs to bed. She did be looking tired. I suspect she was being on the road for a while." 

Yarlest then snorted in Gwildor's general direction. 

"As if a woman like that would want to be talking to a wrinkled old desert plum like you anyway, Gwil! Yer being five times her age if yer being a day!" 

"Age and experience, my good lady," Gwildor cackled. "I could show her a thing or two, you bet your plump bottom. By Stollar, I could!" 

Yarlest laughed and rolled her eyes. 

"And the other fine lady and the lad," he said, "where did you send them off to in such a hurry?" 

"Off to see Nothok. They be looking to cross the mountain."

"Tough journey," Gwildor said with a knowing nod of his bald and wrinkled head. "But Nothok's an honorable sort, he is. He'll get them taken care of. 

"That he will," Yarlest said. "Yer being asking a lot of questions, Gwil. What's got you being so talkative?"

"Just don't often see such lovely ladies in a place like this is all," Gwildor answered. Then he added quickly, "Except for you, my lovely Yarly. Except for you!" 

Gwildor raised his mug to her and she laughed. 

"Be flattering me all you like, Gwil, you'll non be getting a free ale!" 

Gwildor shrugged and took a swig. 

"One day, my lovely Yarly. One day." 

Yarlest shook her head and went back to work. 

As soon as she had turned away Lethelin had seen the pleasant grin slide from the old gnome's face and a look of consternation replace it. 

About fifteen minutes later, an orc had come in, nodded to Yarlest who greeted him by name, and sat down next to Gwildor. They began speaking in low whispers almost immediately. Gwildor gestured up the steps and the orc nodded, then slid a coin across the table to the little gnome, who pocketed it greedily. The orc got up and walked back out the door into the night, never glancing at Lethelin's corner as she watched him. 

He was big, thickly muscled, and wore a sword, but it hung awkwardly at his hip. He didn't have the easy grace of someone that was accustomed to walking with it. Also no sevith or krisa so, unless he was a wand user, which was rare, she would be able to take him in a fight. Probably. She would feel better with her rapier but she had left it behind, not wanting to carry the extra weight across the blasted sands of Iletish and so only carried her stiletto and dagger now.