The Onyx Throne - Book One

Mitchell flexed his hand as they stepped out of the Dragon Academy into the desert sunlight. The palatial building reminded Mitchell of an old English manor except it was constructed mostly out of the pale stone which was common in Iletish. Revos said it was sponsored by the Iletishian royal family and that anyone could apply for admittance. If a family was too poor to pay the fees then the student had to agree to a term of service upon graduation to repay the debt. While walking the grounds he saw many young people from multiple races and walks of life and it was very hard not to make comparisons to another magical school from popular Earth literature.

The sevith he’d been fitted with was made of supple black leather that seemed to hug the skin around his palm without squeezing too tight. It had four finger holes and a thumb hole and a web of straps across his palm with an opening in the middle. Revos had told him that this slot was for empowering large rune circles for more powerful and advanced magic and was well beyond his capabilities for now. Instead, he was told to focus on the six gemstones fitted snugly into holes on the back of his hand.

Mitchell could draw upon mana from the six mortal schools of magic: conjuration, abjuration, evocation, enchantment, illusion, and divination. Each of the sevith’s stones was meant to channel a specific mana type. Revos said it didn’t matter which stone went where since the mana would flow to the right one without any effort on his part, but that it was best to always use the same slot for the same type of gemstone. It was easier to swap out old for new in a hurry if he didn’t have to think about which one was which.

Woven around the leather straps that hugged each gemstone were hair-thin wires of electrum. Revos had said that there was always bleed through of mana types when casting. Some illusion mana might mix in with evocation mana, or enchantment would bleed into abjuration. It wasn’t usually enough to damage a spell but it would diminish its power, if only a little. For most casters, this bleed through was unimportant. But for high-level spells or combat casters, that extra two or three percent might be the difference between life and death.

The electrum, which was best for channeling mana as it offered the highest fidelity, would transfer the unwanted magical energy into the appropriate gemstone for that type so it would not be wasted and might be used later. How long it would remain in the gem depended largely on the quality of the stone and how much it had been used already.

The gemstones pressed into his hand but not uncomfortably so. Each one, about the size of his thumbnail, was polished smooth so as not to have any sharp edges which might irritate his skin. He was told to expect some blistering early on but that it would heal soon enough and the skin would toughen up. Revos showed him the back of his own hand which did have seven slightly rougher patches where his sevith stones had rested for decades.

“After a while, you won’t even feel them anymore,” the big creature had said. “And swapping out stones will become as natural as breathing.”

To carry his gemstones, Mitchell was given a specially tailored belt pouch. He was told that this was a style favored by battle casters for the speed that stones could be retrieved and replaced. The pouch–called an ikas–was made of the same supple black leather and tied firmly around his waist. It had six columns arranged in parallel and each one could hold six to ten gemstones depending on their size. All he had to do was press his fingers to the top of one of the columns and a stone would be pushed out almost instantly. He fed new stones in through the bottom. Like the sevith, it didn’t matter what stones went into which column, but it was best to keep it consistent so as not to have to think about it during combat. Fumble too long, or grab the wrong gemstone needed for the spell, and you would be dead. He was informed that drilling with the stones, both their retrieval and slotting, would become part of his practice routine.

Currently, the ikas was filled with six stones each and he had one of each type slotted into his sevith. Watching how the stones glinted in the sun he was reminded of the Infinity Gauntlet from the Marvel movies. This was not nearly so grandiose as that had been, though, and would not give him the power of a god. Still, he couldn’t help but snap a few times and grin like an idiot. Revos had just arched an eyebrow at him and gave a long-suffering expression and Mitchell didn’t bother trying to explain.

Besides, Revos had been in a sour mood all morning. When Mitchell had inquired about it as they’d left the Maiden’s Mist at dawn, the cambion had sworn in his native tongue and Mitchell’s vision had gone blurry for a moment and he thought he would puke up his breakfast. As he’d staggered into a fountain they were walking past Revos had apologized and offered a hand to steady him but the big creature would explain no further.

Now that he finally had the equipment he needed to start learning to cast his spells, Mitchell was in such a good mood that he didn’t care if Revos looked like he was trying to pass a pinecone out of his ass the wrong way. He, Mitchell Allan, was going to learn magic. Real, actual magic. He pictured his younger self pouring over his dad’s old fantasy novels as a kid and began miming casting powerful spells by throwing his hands out in over-dramatic fashion while vocalizing magical sound

However, Revos put a stop to his theatrics almost immediately.

“That’s a good way to get killed,” he cautioned.

After he thought about it for a moment, he realized how stupid he’d been. He supposed that here it was no different than walking down a street on Earth with a loaded gun and pointing it at people. He apologized and they continued on toward their rendezvous with Allora at the western gate.

“This stuff must be expensive. I didn’t think we had that much coin.”

Revos didn’t answer right away and Mitchell assumed he wasn’t going to, but he finally spoke.

“It did not come from the coin we looted from Ivaran and his men. I purchased it with my own funds.”

Mitchell was a little stunned at that. He didn’t know much about Revos but had learned enough to know that he was unusually stingy and selfish. He always did the least amount of work in the camp, ate the most food, and took the most rest. His sharing what was surely a decent amount of money was out of character. Mitchell never would have thought the demon generous.

“It is a tradition in some schools for a teacher to provide a student’s first krisa or sevith as a gift. A reward for their effort and a sign of their faith in the student’s potential. I chose to honor that tradition.”

Mitchell wondered at the strange emphasis Revos placed on the word ‘chose’ but decided not to question it.

“Is this considered a good one?” Mitchell asked tentatively.

Revos looked down at him as they walked.

“It is the best this city has to offer. The leather is drake skin. A kind of lesser dragon. If you care for it then it should last you decades. The webbing around each stone won’t fray or rip easily as with something like leather made from jivi hide. Also it’s more flexible and breathes better than one made from the tough skin of a lizard, like a clorvol.”

Mitchell didn’t know what to say. All he could muster was a thank you.

“Consider it not just a gift but an… apology,” Revos said the word like it tasted sour in his mouth, “for almost getting you killed.”

“I appreciate that,” Mitchell told him, and he meant it. “I will work hard to use it properly.”

Revos merely grunted and they walked through the next few intersections in silence as the city came awake around them.

“What does it mean when a cambion has gold on its horns?” he asked suddenly, a memory sparking from yesterday.

Revos started out of whatever he was contemplating as they walked.

“What?” His voice was like a whip crack.

A little shocked at his reaction, Mitchell explained, “Yesterday when I entered the city with Lethelin I saw another cambion. I think it was a female of your kind, and she had the tips of her horns coated in gold. I just wondered what it meant.”

Revos’s golden snake eyes went wide and his head began to turn about like it was on a swivel. Not seeing what he feared, he turned back to Mitchell.

“This woman, was she alone?”

“No,” Mitchell answered, confused. “There was another one with her. I got the impression he was like a bodyguard. He was even bigger than you and had two black-bladed swords strapped to his back.”

“What color was she?” Revos demanded with what sounded like panic in his voice. “Her skin, what color?”

“Um… A kind of blue, I guess? She was actually kind of hot, which I never thought I would say about a dem–”

Mitchell’s voice was cut off as Revos grabbed his upper arm and began to power walk down the street. He had several inches on Mitchell and a longer stride. Mitchell was almost jogging to keep up.

“We need to get out of the city. Now!”

“What? Why?”

“No time to explain!”

Mitchell grew tired of being dragged like a naughty toddler almost immediately.

“Let… go!” he demanded, yanking his arm free. “I don’t need to be dragged.”

“Then keep up,” Revos snapped back.

The next fifteen or twenty minutes were spent with Mitchell trying to keep pace with Revos without actually breaking into a run. For his part, Revos barely paid him any mind and approached each intersection cautiously, sometimes even sending Mitchell forward to scout. The cambion refused any calls to explain. Finally, the western gate came into view and they were out of the city proper and into the open-air market that mirrored the one at the eastern gate almost exactly. The Diran Road cut a straight path into the distance as far as he could see.

“Lora said she would meet us at the edge of the market,” Revos barked. “Let’s go,”

The foot traffic was a little less orderly out in the markets than inside the walls and both of them almost ran into carts and shoppers multiple times but eventually made it through. Mitchell was panting by the time they finally found Allora and Lethelin with their clorvol sitting off to the side of the road away from the other travelers.

“Mount up! We need to go. Right now!” Revos said.

If Mitchell didn’t know better, he’d think the terrifying creature was panicking. Allora picked up on it immediately and stood up on the wagon bed to scan behind them. Her hand went to her sword which had a covering wrapped around the pommel to hide the stone which would mark it as an Onyx Knight’s blade.

“What is it?” she said, her voice tinged with anxiety.

“Not Milandris, I’ll tell you later… after we’re moving,” Revos said, almost flying up into the driver’s seat.

Before Mitchell had even found his seat in the back of the wagon, it lurched forward as Revos snapped the reigns hard enough to draw an angry grunt from the clorvol and it rocked the wagon in annoyance before settling into what amounted to its quick pace.

Several long minutes passed with everyone on edge and expecting an attack from every direction before Revos finally seemed to accept that they were safe from whatever danger he was running from.

“Please explain why we had to flee the city like bandits,” Allora said, her patience finally gone.

“It wasn’t about you or the kingling,” Revos said. “It was… my cousin.”