The Onyx Throne Ch 89 Epilogue

Chapter 89

The palace proper was not what Mitchell had expected, but then he realized that he'd never been to any palace before, so he had nothing with which to compare it. The fact that it had been essentially abandoned for the last two years probably wasn't helping much, either.

Once the gate clicked shut behind them, and they made it through the fifteen-foot-thick wall, everyone paused to take a breath. They were, for the moment, safe. Exhausted to a man, all sported wounds of varying severity. The exception was Vras, who -- though covered in blood -- seemed unhurt. For the moment, they were safe.

The main building was to Mitchell's right, perhaps half a kilometer from where they stood. They appeared to have come in through some sort of business entrance. There was an abandoned guard station just to the left of where the passageway through the walls ended, and then the once-manicured path weaved forward deeper into the palace proper, branching off to what looked like administrative structures or perhaps staff housing. Mitchell couldn't be sure, but the bland look of government buildings seemed to be the same in any universe.

On his shoulder, Lethelin groaned, and Mitchell suddenly remembered himself. He laid her down as gently as he could and checked her over. She had a nasty head wound above her left eye that had flayed open her scalp to the bone. The little bit of healing they'd been able to do with their dwindling mana supplies had stopped the profuse bleeding at least.

"That's no good," Hackett said, seeing the wound in more detail. "Anyone have any mana left?"

"Save it," Mitchell said and reached into his small pack. "We'll likely need it and I can cover this."

There sound of exploding gemstones could still be heard in the still air and Mitchell knew they had only minutes before the barrier collapsed completely. If holes were developing that a shadow cat could jump through, the soldiers would be arriving soon enough. Luckily, Vras could see magic.

Mitchell rooted around until he felt cool glass beneath is fingers and emerged with the healing potion they'd found a few days prior in the abandoned warehouse.

When Eldrick saw the potion, he gave a whistle.

"Those have been hard to come by," he said. "Where did you get that?"

"Found it," Mitchell told him as he pried the cork free and started to dribble it into Lethelin's mouth. It had a warm, amber color and it was slightly thick, almost like warm syrup.

"You... found it?"

Mitchell only nodded and watched Lethelin's face for a reaction. After a moment, the unconscious woman coughed, then spluttered and started to swallow the healing liquid. Mitchell watched and, within seconds, the lacerated skin on her forehead began to knit itself back together. Her eyes snapped open and Mitchell placed his hand under her neck to help her sit up.

"Drink it all," he told her softly, as he watched her struggle to focus.

After a few seconds, she had the presence of mind to hold the potion to her lips and swallow the contents, then she leaned into his arm and closed her eyes as the potion went to work. Within a minute, the wound was healed and Lethelin was coming around.

Allora took out a cloth from somewhere and wet it from her waterskin, then wiped the blood away from Lethelin's eyes.

"You gave us a fright," Allora said gently. "Can you walk?"

Lethelin started to speak, but only managed a weak croak at first. Allora offered her some of the water which she drank greedily.

"I'll bloody well walk out of here," she said, after clearing her throat. Lethelin's voice was still a little weak, but better.

"On your feet, then," Allora told her with a smile. "There is still a kingdom to save."

Lethelin nodded and Mitchell pulled her up. She swayed a little and Mitchell had to support her with his arm, but she got her bearings and was able to stand on her own.

"You're not looking so hot, yourself," Lethelin said, grimacing at the sight of Allora.

The lord captain did indeed look almost as battered and bruised as the thief, but she only shrugged.

"We are alive and we are here. The wounds can be healed later."

The quiet was punctuated by several muffled explosions and everyone jumped.

"

The shield is failing, Mitchell. I can do no more. Already there are gaps that the soldiers have begun to exploit. You have maybe one or two minutes before it is down completely. I can sense them already moving through and heading towards the gates.

"

As if to emphasize Awen's words, a loud booming sound came echoing through the corridor that they had just emerged from. Their enemies were trying to get in.

"Time to go!"

"One moment," Khardin said. "My mana has refilled a bit. I think I can slow them a little. At least from this gate."

The dwarf stuck out his hands and a gemstone flashed. Then, a few feet inside the corridor, the path began to bulge upward, dirt and rock surging up from beneath the ground to fill the space above it, stretching all the way up to the top of the arched passageway. Khardin held the spell as long as he could, then slumped in exhaustion and clutched his head.

"Spent, aye. Won't be much good with magic for a bit."

"You did plenty," Mitchell said, clapped him on the back. "Every bit helps."

Mitchell turned and looked at the palace.

"Most direct route, if you please, Allora."

Behind him, there came a staccato popping sound that reminded Mitchell of setting off strings of fireworks on the 4th of July, only much louder. It rippled all up and down the walls of the palace and Mitchell actually felt the vibrations through the soles of his feet. The sound filled the air and stretched for a good thirty seconds before all was quiet again. Everyone was looking up at the sky and they saw the last translucent wisps of the barrier vanish, like fog under a noonday sun.

"That's it then," Vanthella said, her voice almost startling in the sudden quiet as even the people outside were stunned into silence.

"Double time!" Mitchell half shouted into the stillness.

Moving as fast as they could, their battered group began a halting sort of jog down the path towards the palace.

***

The sounds of explosions picked up relatively quickly. Falen received an update via a message spell from one of his bodyguards that the crowds had forced the soldiers back and they were clustered around the large main gate and two of the smaller ones trying to gain entry. Fighting was fierce, but the soldiers, now that they weren't so spread out, were having a much easier time fending them off. To Mitchell's relief, many of the city guardsman had turned against the occupiers and were providing some much-needed organization to the battle beyond the walls. Still, there were more soldiers than there were guardsmen so without the assistance of the palace defenses, they would eventually be pushed back. It sounded like things were settling into a stalemate as the soldiers fortified their positions around the entrances and people began pulling back because of heavy casualties.

It didn't take long for them to see the remains of the people who died in the battle that toppled the kingdom. Once-manicured lawns and topiary, now grown wild, could not hide all the bodies that laid where they had fallen. Tattered clothes, livery, rusted out armor, and bones were all that were left of the men and women who had died that night. Mitchell saw it, but tried not to dwell on the spectacle of so much death. More than once they had to move around bodies that had fallen in the path, some of them wearing the armor of Onyx Knights. Mitchell could almost feel the anger building among them with the sigh of each new decomposed body. His sensitive nose could still detect the lingering scent of death, but it wasn't too bad.

As they passed various buildings, the results of fire were also all around them. Some structures had been reduced to hollowed out husks or rubble. Some only had scorch marks around a few shattered windows. The destruction appeared random as befits the chaos of a battle.

"How long did the people have to get out once Baylor died?" Mitchell said as they crossed near a fountain with fetid water filling the basin.

"Ten minutes," Allora said. "Alarms sounded immediately upon his death and that is how long it takes for the barrier spell to charge up."

"Seems like a bad plan," Mitchell said, contemplating the situation. "They could have just brought in enough people to break the walls from the inside and start shattering the stones and runes that held up the shield."

"I do not think they intended to kill Baylor that first night," Allora said. "I suspect they wanted to capture him to prevent this precise situation. Capture him, destroy the throne, and then kill him and destroy the heart stone. They succeeded in only one of their goals."

"Small favors," Mitchell thought to himself.

After trekking through another park or two and what looked to be some sort of training ground, the palace was before him. Mitchell had never been to France and seen the palace at Versailles, but he'd seen pictures often enough. This one wasn't quite as ornate as what he remembered from photos of its Parisian counterpart. It was a bit more utilitarian, but it was still beautiful.

In contrast to the wall, the palace was constructed of a dark gray stone with onyx used only as accents. It framed windows, delineated floors, and had been carved into beautiful statuary and gargoyles. It gave the palace an almost gothic look, even if it didn't have all the spires that one might associate with a medieval cathedral.

The building was four stories high and as they approached one of the walls, Allora turned them down the left rather than towards the front of the building.

"We will use a servant's entrance," she said by way of explanation. "If they breach one of the gates, let them waste time trying to get through the larger doors."

This close to the palace there were many more bodies, and Mitchell did his best not to focus on the number. Instead, he studied the large structure in front of him, trying to keep himself distracted from all the bones poking through the overgrown grass.

Up ahead he saw a rather plain set of double doors set into an out-of-the-way alcove.

"Gardener's entrance," Allora said as they came up to it. Then she looked at Mitchell. "You must open it first, it will respond to your touch."

Mitchell walked up to the door and reached out for the handle. Once his fingers closed around the rusted iron latch, he felt another presence intrude upon his thoughts. It was different than the previous one in a way that was hard to discern. It felt simpler, somehow. There was no sense that it understood anything beyond the series of conditionals it was designed to operate under. Before Mitchell could see if there was anything deeper beneath the surface, he felt that spark of recognition as the magic connected with the heart stone in his chest. Then, there was a click within the door and Mitchell gave it a tug. It opened with a squeal as rusted hinges, long immobile, were forced into operation once more.

They came in to a store room. Mitchell could see rows upon rows of gardening implements and, beyond the dusty shelves across the room, a door that led deeper into the palace. Before they had made it all the way across the room, the floor shook and they heard the sound of a massive explosion.

"I guess they got the main gates open," Eldrick said. "They'll be here soon."

Gilriel nodded and they pushed forward.

Everything was a blur as Mitchell followed behind Allora, her memory of the palace guiding them. They ran down long corridors with more bodies at every turn. The fighting must have been intense. He saw shattered wood, glass, windows. Holes blown into walls, scorch marks from various different magical attacks or just plain old fire.

Mitchell looked at Allora as they traversed the seemingly never-ending maze of corridors and saw her eyes bright with tears and her lips pressed tightly together, but her footsteps never wavered. Around him, he heard the others cursing at the sight of the destruction. None of them had been here when the palace fell. Likely, this was the first time they had seen it in decades. Mitchell knew for a fact that it had been close to a hundred years since Gilriel had set foot within these halls. Looks of anger, sadness, and shock were clear on all their faces.

Finally, they emerged into a grand hall.

"Oh wow," Mitchell said as he took in the grandeur of the room.

"The Hall of the Sun," Gilriel said, a note of awe present in her voice as it echoed around the cavernous room.

It was magnificent. It was open all the way up to the ceiling, nearly sixty feet. To his right was a massive set of double doors that Mitchell assumed led outside. There was another set at the opposite end that were smaller, but no less ornate in their design. Stairways that led to the upper floors and, beyond the balconies, Mitchell could just make out more halls that stretched back into the palace.

Huge fluted columns spaced equidistant around the edges and made of pure black onyx stretched all the way to the frescoed ceiling. As Mitchell scanned upward he saw a massive glass dome that allowed the sunlight to come pouring down so brightly that it looked to Mitchell as though it might be a physical thing. Set squarely in the middle of the room and directly underneath the glass dome was a ten-foot tall statue of a nude man wrought in white marble with veins of gold. His face was angular and beautiful. The eyes, also made of gold, shown with an inner radiance that, despite their metallic nature, looked alive. Mitchell felt a sense of great age and power coming from the stern face. Just looking at it made him want to bow and prostrate himself before the stone visage.

One muscular arm was held aloft, the fingers extended almost as if it were calling forth the light. In the opposite hand there was a long scepter cradled in the crook of the elbow, the end burning with actual flame. The longer Mitchell stared, the surer he was that the statue was breathing; that an invisible wind was blowing the shoulder-length hair, and that those golden eyes were watching and judging him. But then Mitchell would blink, and the effect would end, only to start again if he stared too long.

With an effort, Mitchell pulled his eyes away from the enchanting figure that he was sure was Stollar, and he took in the rest of the details. It was then he noticed the floor. The marble floor was made with a black tile that had veins of gold running through it and Mitchell realized he had seen its like before. It was the same as the material that the statue of Denass had been made of in Besari. The gold here glimmered in the light and Mitchell swore that it was moving through the tiles like a lazy river but thought it must have been a trick of the light. The black tiles had a similar effect of pulling his gaze and Mitchell felt like he was looking down into infinity before quickly growing dizzy. Trying to stop the effect, he pulled his eyes away from the floor and took in the rest of the room as best he could.

Between each column was a statue of some sort, each one seven to eight feet tall, and each one armed. They were made up of all races, male, female, and others, Mitchell couldn't be sure. They were all carved in different clothes, some simple robes, others armor, others nude. He guessed what those were. Luckily for Mitchell's tortured mind, none of them had the same sorts of qualities that Stollar did, or the tiles for that matter.

"Beyond there lies the throne room," Allora said, indicating the doors to the left. Mitchell could hear the strain in her voice. None of them spoke of the bones that littered the floor here and all avoided looking at them. "We made it."

Mitchell turned to her and he saw her trying to smile but the pain of seeing the destruction in the palace was too much for her to manage more than a flicker.

"Let's not waste time, then," he told her.

As one, they crossed the black tile, through the light of the dome and, as he passed through it, Mitchell felt a sudden peace come over him. Much of his weariness passed away, the ache in his sword arm vanished. Around him he noticed the same effect in the others. All of them straightened, their tired bodies looking strong, once more.

"The Healing Light," Vanthella said, and he saw tears of joy in her eyes. "I had forgotten it. I..."

But she stopped and swallowed back what she was about to say. Mitchell saw the other knights all similarly affected.

"Aye," Khardin said, his voice thick with emotion. "Aye, so did I."

There were smiles then among all of them. Lethelin was looking around in awe, too overcome with emotion to do much more than grin. And Mitchell didn't know why, but he felt like smiling, too.

"All who pass through Stollar's light with good intent can feel his blessing and gain healing from minor ailments," Allora explained as they began to walk again.

"That's amazing," he told her.

She grabbed his hand, and together they walked to the throne room doors.

As before, Mitchell placed his hand on the door and it granted him access. This time, the doors swung open under their own power and Mitchell's eyes dazzled.

The room was round, about fifty or sixty feet in diameter, and the doors opened up directly opposite the throne, which dominated the far side of the room, raised up on a dais with eight steps. It was made of pure onyx that Allora had told him had come directly from Awen's geode deep within the earth. It had been shaped or grown into a chair, but with shards of the priceless material jutting up about five feet at its highest point to form the back of the throne which fanned out in a semi-circular pattern. The stone glowed with an inner light that Mitchell had seen only once before. The day he'd taken the heart stone and had the vision of Awen inside her geode, the onyx there had illuminated with the same light.

Compared to the ornate Hall of the Sun, the throne room was fairly simple. It was largely white, albeit the tile floor was the same gold-veined marble that made up the statue of Stollar they'd just passed. It also had a vaulted ceiling, though not as high as the hall, and a glass dome at its peak. Light poured into the room from all sides, but it didn't have the cleansing feeling of the light they'd just passed through. There was a double row of chairs all around the room made of some soft plush material and Mitchell could see a few doors that led off into parts unknown.

Perhaps the most striking feature of the room--besides the throne--was the statue of two dragons carved in bas-relief on the wall behind the throne. Even from the far side of the room, Mitchell could see the exquisite detail that had gone into the carving. One was white, the other, black. Each scale was expertly carved. Each ridge, horn, and spike from their heads precise in their imperfections. Mitchell could have spent an hour just going over all the lines.

Behind the group the Hall of the Sun echoed with a massive boom, and they all jumped.

"They're here," Gilriel said. "Get to the throne! We'll hold them off until you complete the bonding."

Mitchell nodded and looked around at his team. They were healed up by the light, but there were still a lot of soldiers out there and only a handful of them. He turned to Vras who had been plodding along quietly since they made it inside the grounds.

"Stay out here in the hall where it's darker. Pick them off as you can and try to buy the others time."

Vras flicked his ears and loped away on silent paws.

"Will these doors lock when we close them?" Mitchell asked.

"They will if you tell them to," Allora said.

Another explosion rocked the hall and dust drifted down from overhead as the walls shook.