Once everyone was washed and feeling refreshed, things settled down. The only bit of excitement left was introducing Vras to the situation. They had opted to leave him in the forest until they could broach the subject with Gilriel as she would likely try to kill him on sight if he simply wondered into the clearing around her cottage. There was much swearing and it took several minutes to convince her not to end the beast the moment he put a paw into view. Upon hearing his name Gilriel also uttered a string of invective that even caused Lethelin to raise her eyebrows in appreciation.
“Vras? Really?” Gilriel had demanded of Allora. As if shadow cats weren’t terrifying enough? You named him that?”
“It is appropriate,” Allora said, somehow managing to sound both deferential and firm at the same time. “And, as I said, I have reason to believe that Vish placed him in our path.”
Gilriel snorted.
“Nine hells, Allora! I thought you had more sense than that!”
“If I may,” Mitchell interjected, not appreciating the dressing down that Gilriel was directing at his companion. He found he had to resist the urge to shrink back when the old drill sergeant turned her steely gaze at him. He firmed his spine against the pressure of her glare. “The choice was mine. It was important to me that Allora agree with me about bringing him along, but I would have done it against her wishes if it had been necessary. So, if you want to be angry at someone, it should be me.”
“I don’t expect you to know the dangers of this world the way she does. Allora should have—”
“Allora has pledged herself to my service,” Mitchell cut her off and allowed a little steel to come into his voice as well. He was also attempting to mimic the formal style that Allora almost always used. It seemed to carry more authority when one spoke it here. “And, while I value her council in all things, ultimately the decision is mine. Would you command an Onyx Knight to disobey her monarch?”
Gilriel’s eyes narrowed as she recognized the trap. She turned her gaze back to Allora, who watched mutely, eyes slightly widened at the battle of wills between the woman who she had come to love and respect as both a mother-figure and a mentor, and her monarch. Seeing the slightly accusatory glare from her mentor, Allora firmed her lips and returned the look, though without the matching heat.
Gilriel sniffed.
“You are not monarch yet,” she said finally but a lot of the force had gone out of her words.
“True, but it would set a bad precedent, don’t you think?”
Gilriel drummed her fingers on the study farm table that took up a large space in the common area of her cottage. The wood was thick, scarred from decades of use, but clean and sturdily built.
“You are correct,” she said at last with a huff. “My apologies. It is just… A shadow cat?”
Suddenly the woman stood up and began to hike up her dress. Before anyone could say anything, she had lifted her leg and placed it on an empty chair and exposed her outer right thigh. Despite being well north of one hundred, it was as shapely and toned a leg as Allora’s. Except for the wounds.
Mitchell saw three long scars that began just above her knee and traveled up past where she bunched up the dress around her waist. She made sure all of them had a good look. The scars were old but he could see they had been deep and would have been a grisly wound.
“Ten of us went into the Peaks on patrol,” she said, her voice hard. “Six knights and four mountain rangers. Only three of us returned. One shadow cat killed seven. Salaya, my sister knight, lost her arm, and the surviving ranger, a good man named Finnik, who had a family, was blinded in one eye, had his face slashed open and was never able to eat or drink again without drooling, and walked with a cane for the rest of his life. Four fully trained knights, and three mountain rangers. Lives gone in moments. From a single shadow cat. It got past our perimeter and killed two before we even knew it was there. That is the horror that you travel with, young monarch. The gods help you all if it ever goes wild.”
Mitchell swallowed but her display did not shake his resolve.
“Vras says he views me as something called a tar s’thyr. A human pack leader.”
Gilriel’s eyes flicked to Allora.
“Your translation, I take it?”
“Yes, as near as I could recall. I was not the most diligent in my most of my studies. I settled for getting a working understanding of the old Dwarvish, Hillspeak, and Gnomish, but Waivian seemed of little use since we so rarely had dealings with the Fey.”
“It is close enough. But a more accurate translation would be mortal hunt leader. Shadow cats don’t have packs but they will gather for a hunt from time to time. Tar is more a general term for a mortal race as opposed to Waia which is the Waivian word for immortal. They are from the Fey lands, after all. But once the hunt is finished shadow cats disperse.”
Mitchell could see her slip back into her old instructor mode as she filled them in on the bit of lore surrounding the beasts. It seems you could take the old instructor out of the classroom but you couldn’t take the classroom out of the instructor.
“The question is,” Gilriel continued, “if your pet decides that the hunt is finished, what will he do? Hunts are temporary things, after all. What will he do if his desire and instinct to kill overcomes the inherently temporary loyalty to a tar s’thyr?”
They were quiet for a time as Mitchell pondered her words.
“That will be an interesting day, I think,” he said at last.
Gilriel gave him a level look but only blinked in response.
***
As the sun began to set Mitchell and the girls, along with Gilriel, who had strapped on her sword and swapped out the stones in her krisa, approached the tree line. That the cat was still young as far as those things were measured didn’t appear to dissuade her.
Mitchell called to Vras and they waited. He wouldn’t have gone far. While the girls were relaxed, Gilriel was on high alert, hand on the pommel of the sword and a gemstone in her krisa already glowing. Her eyes were in constant motion as she scanned the undergrowth for signs of their six-legged companion. After a few moments a midnight black head with glowing green eyes parted the wild grass and it emerged smoothly and silently from cover. His eyes were already on Gilriel and his body was lowered, ears flat and tentacles low. He stopped about a meter from Mitchell and watched the retired knight warily.
“Vras, this is Gilriel. She is a friend.”
Vras’s eyes flicked to Mitchell briefly and then back to Gilriel who was also ready to draw her blade. Her stance was wide and her body, perhaps unconsciously, had started to crouch as if she expected action.
“Threat,” Vras said and a low growl could be heard in his chest.
“No, she’s just scared. You know that gratha inspire fear in all the mortal races.”
Vras’s ears flicked.
“This is proper. But her scent is threat.”
“A gratha killed some of her friends. She fears you and fears that you will harm me and the girls. But I told her you would not.”
For the first time Vras gave Mitchell his full attention.
“Then why does she still fear?”
“She doesn’t believe that you will not harm us.”
Vras seemed puzzled by this idea.
“Can you do what we discussed before?”
Vras made a sound in his throat somewhere between a whine and a growl and looked almost plaintively at Mitchell, if such a thing were possible.
“Please,” he asked the beast once more. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.
In their walk through the forest approaching Gilriel’s glade there had been some discussion on how to make the introduction go smoother. Allora wasn’t certain that Gilriel wouldn’t kill Vras outright, no matter what they told her. Such was the hatred and fear of shadow cats among the people of Tewadunn. So Mitchell had discussed with Vras a way to—hopefully—calm the situation.
After a giving Mitchell one more baleful look Vras relaxed lowered himself fully to the ground, rolled over and presented his belly to Gilriel. It was an unprecedented display of subservience to their host who stared open-mouthed at the creature of pure nightmare that was now supplicating itself before her.
“Well…” Gilriel said after a pregnant pause. “Balls and fucking taint.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“I like her,” Lethelin said with a grin.
***
Despite the best of intentions, all anyone did the next day was rest. Mitchell had plans to rise with the dawn and continue with his practice but when dawn rolled around, all he did was turn over in his bedroll. Gilriel had assured them that her wards would signal her if anything dangerous got close so they could rest easy and so rest easy they did. After months of watches and guard duty, being able to sleep undisturbed was like a dream and it was one Mitchell intended to savor as long as he could.
Her house was not large enough to fit them all and, even though the older elf had offered Allora her spot in the small guest room she had, the knight had opted to camp outside snuggled on one side of Mitchell with Leth on the other side. He hadn’t minded at all. And, if he was being honest, it would have felt strange not to have them next to him while he slept.
Mitchell had felt Allora stir a few hours after dawn, her old military habits being hard to break, but she had only kissed him lightly on the forehead and bid him to sleep as long as he’d wanted. The sound of the small stream that ran behind Gilriel’s house and the sibilant cooing of the athi in the coop nearby soon had him asleep once more.
Eventually, hunger forced him from his bedroll under the lean to they’d set up next to the fire circle that Gilriel had in her backyard. Looking at the sky he saw it was past noon. This was the longest he’d slept since he’d arrived on the planet. As he sat up, Lethelin groaned and cracked an eye.
“Food,” he said simply.
She grunted and rolled over.
“Come on, we can’t sleep all day.”
“Wanna bet?”
He slipped his hand underneath the loose-fitting nightshirt she wore and stroked his fingers along her back and gave her some light scratches. Who didn’t like a good back scratch?
Leth arched her spine and she moaned but didn’t get up.
“Come on, lazy bones. I smell something cooking.”
“You first. But first, a little to the left… higher… a little mo—Mmmmm, right there! Yessssss.”
Mitchell scratched vigorously for a few moments and then spread it around. Retracting his hand, he gave her a light swat on the ass that got a squeak.
“Harder, please,” she said seductively and popped her butt up a little.
“Later,” he told her with a chuckle. “Food first.”
Leaving her pouting, he stood and headed for the wash bucket to get cleaned up.
Once presentable in the cleanest set of clothes he had, he joined Allora and Gilriel in the dining area of the cottage where they were chatting over tea.
“Goo mooning, seepy heed,” Allora greeted him with a smile.
Mitchell tried not to wince at her horrible English pronunciation and reminded himself that he probably sounded little better in Common, at least in those early days.
“Afternoon, more like it,” Gilriel said and got up to prepare him a cup of tea.
“We were a little more tired than I thought,” he said, somewhat embarrassed by his laziness.
“And why wouldn’t you be?” the old drill instructor said as she handed him a cup of something warm and floral scented. "Crossing first Iletish and then the Peaks on foot? No easy task. You earned a slow morning.”
Mitchell ducked his head by way of thanks and took a sip of the warm beverage. It was actually quite pleasant. It had a citrusy taste that tingled a little on the tongue and he found himself feeling a bit more alert. As he savored the tea, Allora set down a plate of some grilled meat and roasted vegetables that smelled amazing. After a quick word of thanks, he dug in with gusto, enjoying the freshly cooked food immensely. After weeks of trail rations it was like mana from heaven. The ladies let him eat undisturbed.
Halfway through his meal Lethelin came in, still groggy but mobile.
“Any left for me?”
After everyone had eaten their fill and the dishes had been cleared away, Allora spoke up.
“I think we need to talk about the next steps,” she said to Mitchell. “And what you will need to do when we get to Lorivin and you complete the bond to Awen.”
“Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that.”
“The bonding process is not difficult under normal circumstances,” Gilriel said. “Lorivast was guided into Awen’s geode underground for his bonding, but a better way was found by the time the third monarch was seated. It is done through the throne itself, which is in the great hall of the Onyx Palace.”
“That’s another thing,” Mitchell broke in. “How is it that Milandris hasn’t taken control of the palace? You mentioned awhile back that he wasn’t able to plunder the palace but why not? He controls the city, right?”
Gilriel nodded.
“He does, but the palace is protected.”
“Once Baylor was killed and Awen felt the link with him end, she activated the palace defenses. It is something only she could do.”
“What are those?” Mitchell asked.
“The primary one is the shield. Embedded into the palace itself are gemstones from Awen’s geode. They are connected to powerful shield wards that can be maintained as long as the gemstones are still viable. Eventually, they will fail. There were several redundancies built in should there ever be a siege of the palace, but they have never been active this long and I don’t know how much time we still have before they fail altogether.
“Once Awen saw what was happening, those still in the palace were warned to leave as quickly as possible. After the shields were activated nothing could pass through from either side. Some made it out, but some did not.”
“What happened to them?
“Eventually, they would have starved to death,” Gilriel said simply.
“Even the people working and living in the palace?” Mitchell said, shocked.
Allora nodded grimly. “Unfortunately. If they did not heed the warning, they would have been trapped within the palace walls. Once the food ran out, they would have died.”
“The throne had to be protected,” Gilriel added. “You must use it to bond with Awen.”
“So how will we get in?” Lethelin spoke up for the first time.
“Mitchell should be able to pass through the barrier as he carries the heart stone.” Allora told her.
“What about you two?” he asked.
Allora glanced at Gilriel before answering.
“Holding your hand we should be able to enter with you,” she said, although she didn’t sound to certain.
“Should?”
“It’s never been done before,” Gilriel said. “But you should be able to bring people through with you.”
“The only other option would be for Awen to drop the shield completely and that would mean others could enter as well.”
“She can’t just turn it off and turn it back on again.”
“No,” Awen’s voice suddenly spoke into his mind. “The shield takes time to activate. It is a large and complex web of interconnected onyx stones and wards that need to be powered in the right sequence. If I were forced to drop the shield, it would be several minutes before I could bring it back. Rushing the process or activating them out of sequence would cause fluctuations in the power flow sufficient to overload the surviving gemstones and it is likely that it would fail completely.”
After getting over his shock of having Awen suddenly speaking to him, he relayed that information to the others.
“Will the heart stone allow the girls in with me if they’re holding my hands? And what about Vras?”
“I don’t know, Mitchell, I’m sorry. It is possible the shield will not distinguish between the three of you if you are touching and sufficiently close together, but it was never tested with that in mind.”
“Well, that’s great.”
Once more he repeated what Awen had told him and everyone’s face wore a frown after that. Trying to stay on topic, Mitchell said, “Okay, so let’s say we get in, one way or another, then what do I need to do?”
“You would make your way to the throne room and sit in the Onyx Throne,” Gilriel told him. “Once there, the throne will grow to encompass you completely and a more powerful version of what you experienced with the heart stone will take place.”
Mitchell remembered that feeling of being burned from the inside out when he’d taken up the heart stone all those weeks ago. It had felt like his blood had changed to fire and it was going to sear him from existence.
“That wasn’t so pleasant the first time,” he said flatly and looked at Allora who ducked her head slightly.
“Nor is the second time,” Gilriel said. “But the heart stone will mitigate some of that. It has prepared your body to accept the stress of the full bonding. But it will not be pleasant, Mitchell. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing in life is ever easy.”
“What about the soldiers in the city?” Lethelin asked. “Are they going to just let us walk into the palace?”
“Well,” Allora began. “If Mitchell can pass through the shield then we might be able to sneak in. And once we were through there is nothing they could do about it.”
“That is a big if,” Mitchell said. “Are there any friendly forces inside the city? A resistance or something?”
“It is possible, but I do not know.”
Mitchell looked to Gilriel.
“I’m just as much in the dark as you three. I haven’t been to the city in decades.”
“I assume they’re on the lookout for us as well?” Mitchell asked.
“Almost certainly,” Allora said. “I am the most wanted woman in Awenor.”
She gave a sort of half-hearted grin at that.
“And Milandris would know by now that you are free and likely roaming about somewhere, that you’re traveling with a human who might be the next monarch, and you’ll be heading for the city.”
Allora nodded.
“Security will be a bitch,” he muttered. “How will we even get in the city if they’re all watching for you?”
“I can get us into the city,” Lethelin said into the heavy silence while popping a basho into her mouth. “No problem.”
Allora blinked.
“What? How?”
The lithe thief gave Allora a level look.
“Oh, come on,” Lethelin said, almost as if she were talking to children. “Do you really think a city that big, with that many people going in and out, doesn’t have a hundred ways to get past guards and tax officials?”
“But you are from Varset. You said yourself you have never been to the city!” Allora shot back.
“What difference does that make?” Lethelin said cooly. “I’m a member of the guild. If I want to get in, I can get in.”
Mitchell saw Gilriel start to grin.
“You and your guild!” Allora said dismissively. “A collection of cut purses and thugs?”
Lethelin arched an eyebrow.
“Do you really think that’s all that it is?”
Lethelin’s voice was cool and confident. There was no braggadocio evident. She was speaking as plainly as if she were declaring the sky was blue. Her confidence seemed to put Allora on the backfoot.
“I do not see how some secret organization of criminals could have thrived in the very capital itself!” she said, trying to recover. “Not only with the city watch but the knights routinely on patrol and overseeing all the goings on. It is inconceivable.”
“My old master used to say that the easiest ones to con are the ones who are convinced they can’t be conned,” Lethelin said with a sly grin.
“Let me see your token,” Gilriel spoke up then.
This brought Lethelin up short. The cocky grin dropped from her face instantly, replaced by a look of wariness.
“If you speak the truth that you are indeed a member of the guild, despite your obviously young age, I want to see your token.”
“Gilriel, are you saying there is indeed a Thieves’ Guild?” Allora asked.
Gilriel held up a hand to silence Allora without looking at her. The knight clapped her mouth shut in response and assumed a posture of obedience, clasping her hands in her lap and looking down.
Lethelin looked to Mitchell clearly hoping he would help her extricate herself from the situation. Mitchell merely shrugged.
“This is on you,” he told her. “You made the claim.”
Seeing no way out of the hole she’d apparently dug for herself, she swore.
“Me and my big mouth,” she muttered.
Lethelin reached under her cloak and pulled Mira out from its sheath. Flipping it upside down, she began to unscrew the cap on the pommel. With a small squeak it came lose and she held out the end of the grip to their host. Mitchell saw then that the cap had not come fully off. Instead, only the top half had unscrewed. Lethelin had presented the flat half still attached to the grip for inspection.
She stared at it for several seconds and then gave Lethelin a hard stare.
“It appears I underestimated you,” Gilriel said cooly.
“What?” Allora said then, no longer able to hold her tongue. “What is it? I want to see it!”
Lethelin pulled the dagger back and quickly screwed the cap on before sliding it back into its sheath on her back.
“That won’t be necessary,” Gilriel said. “She can get you into the city.”
“But…?” Allora began but Gilriel gave her a warning look.
“Mind your tone, girl,” the old elf said, that drill instructor edge coming back into her voice. “The girl can do what she says she can do. That is all you need to know.”
Lethelin looked both relieved and embarrassed.
“That’s my girl,” Mitchell told the thief.
Seeing that she was not going to get any answers, Allora suddenly said “Oh… balls!”