by M. H. Bonham
Lochvaur shook his head. “I don’t know, but it was probably not enough to worry about. However Areyn is growing in strength because of the dead. With each death, Areyn becomes powerful.”
“But Areyn destroyed the Nine Worlds — wouldn’t that have made him more powerful?” Fialan asked.
Lochvaur smiled. “It did — and he still couldn’t defeat Rhyn’athel and Ni’yah when they combined forces. Even with all that death and destruction, Areyn Sehduk couldn’t defeat them.” He paused. “But enough of this. Let’s return to my fortress, if the demons haven’t smashed it to rubble. We’ll need rest for the upcoming battles.”
*****
Lachlei rode silently beside Cahal. She now had her own horse — one of her Chi’lan had found a steed whose rider had perished. While Cahal urged both horses forward, she had turned around when Rhyn sent the terrible wall of flames into the Braesan. Their horses had spooked, as had the others, forcing them to flee in the opposite direction. When they both finally controlled the warhorses, they had turned and seen a glowing warrior on a hill, sword drawn, with fire pouring from his steed’s hooves. The flames had formed a wall of flame that rose hundreds of feet into the sky. She gasped as she saw tentacle-like flames wrap around the incoming demons and pull them into the fire. The roar was deafening as the fire rolled over the Braesan.
Part of Lachlei screamed as she watched the Undead Chi’lan disappear within the wall of flame. She knew Fialan was among them. Although logically Lachlei knew Rhyn had to destroy Areyn’s oncoming army, she was aware she was watching Fialan’s death.
What had she seen exactly? Lachlei wondered. What mortal could call that kind of power to bear on an army?
The Chi’lan and Laddel army had stopped in their retreat, stunned by the firestorm as it rolled over the valley. Many stood in awe as the final traces of blue flames burned themselves out along the grasslands. Hushed whispers ran through the warriors as Rhyn and Telek rode side-by-side from the knoll to rejoin the army.
Lachlei looked at Rhyn. The North Marches Chi’lan seemed unusually pale and subdued. No longer the glowing warrior, but one who looked strained and weary, he refused to meet her gaze. The Laddel warrior, Telek, rode on the opposite side. She could see that Telek and Rhyn were conversing, but could not hear their words. Telek looked up at her, and Lachlei was struck again at the similarity between them.
Concentrating, Lachlei found she could understand the conversation. The words were not quite Eleion, but were of the ancient tongue of the gods, which the Eleion language came from. She frowned. Very few knew that tongue — her mother, Ladara, had taught her some of the Athel’cen tongue, but she had never heard it spoken so fluidly before.
“…it should be possible for us to reach Caer Lochvaren before Areyn has recovered,” Telek was saying. “How badly do you think you damaged him?”
“Enough,” Rhyn said. “It should give us sufficient time.”
“How are you doing?”
Rhyn paused. He looked up as if for the first time seeing Lachlei there. “I thought you cloaked our conversation…”
“I did…” Telek began and then turned and saw Lachlei. “You understand me?”
“I do,” Lachlei replied.
Telek began to chuckle, but Rhyn held him with a look. “Twice first-blood,” Telek said, speaking in Eleion again. “We’ll discuss this later.” He rode off.
Lachlei gazed at Rhyn. “What were you so eager to hide from me? That you wounded Areyn Sehduk? Is that even possible?”
Rhyn hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said.
“What did I see back there?” Lachlei asked.
Rhyn now met her gaze. “You saw what you saw, Lachlei. I make no excuse or apology for what I’ve done. I sent the Braesan back to Tarentor.”
Lachlei stared at him for some time, even though he did not elaborate. Rhyn turned his horse southwest and pressed it into a walk. Cahal looked sideways at Lachlei, who nodded. Cahal turned and barked orders to the warriors to follow. They rode southwest for miles over the rolling hills until the sun climbed high above them. Only then did Rhyn turn to her as he reined his steed and gave the orders for the army to halt. “We should camp here,” he said at last.
They were on the northern edge of Darkling Plain. As far as Lachlei could see, it would be a perfect trap to leave them exposed on the plains. “Wouldn’t we be safer in the timber?”
“Normally, I would agree, but today, no,” Rhyn replied. “We’ll care for our wounded here — tomorrow we must make for Caer Lochvaren in haste.”
“But Areyn’s army…” Lachlei began.
Rhyn shook his head. “We’ll be safe until we reach Caer Lochvaren. We need rest,” he said. He met her gaze. “I need rest.”
CHAPTER Fifty-Seven
“You look awful,” Ni’yah remarked. He looked down at Rhyn’athel, who sat alone beside a fire in the encampment.
Rhyn’athel looked up, his gaze weary. “Thank you. I’ll remember that the next time you take on Areyn Sehduk.” He drank a little hot water from a cup he had let heat in the fire. The air was cold and he shivered, unable to keep warm. The sky was now overcast and it was beginning to flurry. Rhyn’athel could not remember ever feeling this miserable or suffering this much pain.
“Maybe you should shed your mortal body,” Ni’yah suggested, sitting beside him. “Go back to Athelren to recuperate…”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Some food will help.”
“It’ll take more than food,” Ni’yah remarked appraisingly. “How much protection did Areyn have around his troops?”
Rhyn’athel shook his head. “Enough.”
Ni’yah noted that he did not meet his gaze. “How much, brother?”
“Areyn was expecting me, or at least had enough defenses so that only I could destroy them,” the warrior god said. “You couldn’t have done it; his shield was carefully constructed — he’s grown in power. It wasn’t as easy as it looked to destroy those defenses to annihilate the Braesan.”
The wolf-god sat beside his brother and handed him some bread and cheese with strips of dried meat. “Eat — it’ll at least help your body.”
Rhyn’athel took the food and bit into the cheese and bread before trying the meat. It was hard to tear off. “You could’ve brought better food.”
“I thought you wanted the mortal experience.”
Rhyn’athel met his brother’s gaze and chuckled. “That I did.”
“If Areyn’s defenses were that strong, then he knew you were here,” Ni’yah said, returning to the subject.
“Perhaps — or perhaps he only suspected and that was a trigger point,” Rhyn’athel replied, biting into the bread. “Whichever, he knows I’m here now. Areyn will take this war to the next level.” He shook his head. “I can’t leave — not now. Certainly not with his demons hunting Lachlei.”
“I could protect her,” Ni’yah said.
“Maybe, but I’m not willing to risk it.”
Ni’yah paused. “Speaking of Lachlei, here she comes. We’ll talk later.” With that, he left.
“Rhyn?” Lachlei called. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Rhyn smiled weakly. “Lachlei — I’m sorry. I needed some food and rest.”
She considered him. His face was still pale and he looked tired. “Laddel’s scouts inform me that we’re not being pursued,” she said. “How did you know?”
“I am not what I appear.”
Lachlei smiled slightly. “I’ve noticed.” She paused and waited, but Rhyn did not offer an explanation. “Telek and you seemed to be having an interesting conversation, in Athel’cen, no less. Are you a Guardian or something else?”
Rhyn hesitated. “It’s difficult to explain.”
“Just like your son?” she asked pointedly.
Rhyn’athel met her accusatory gaze in bewilderment. “My son?”
“You never told me you were married,” Lachlei said.
Rhyn’athel frowned in puzzlement. “I w
asn’t.”
She stared at him. “And you had a son? What of his mother?”
“It’s very complex, Lachlei, and I really can’t explain it to you right now…”
“Why not?” she asked. “Is she still alive?”
“You were married,” he pointed out. “You have a son, Haellsil.”
Lachlei met his gaze. “A son isn’t something you hide from a lover…”
“Are we lovers?” Rhyn asked. “I would like to be yours…”
“I have never hidden my love for Fialan,” she said. “And now…” Her voice cracked and she fell silent. She turned away, unable to speak. Her mind was filled with a vision of Fialan. It brought back all the sorrow and pain of losing him. Her soul still ached with the loss of the mind-link. She closed her eyes.
“It’s Fialan, isn’t it?” he said.
She turned to him. “He’s alive, Rhyn — I don’t know what I was thinking when we almost…”
“Lachlei,” Rhyn said patiently. “Fialan is lost to you — just as my son is lost to me. Areyn has given them shells, but their souls are tied to him as surely as if they were in Tarentor. They fight for Areyn now, and there is nothing anyone can do to change that.”
“I don’t believe that,” she snapped. “You’re saying that Areyn Sehduk is more powerful than Rhyn’athel? That he can bring back the dead and Rhyn’athel can’t?”
“It’s more complex than that!” Rhyn said, his voice rising.
“Is it?” she replied. “Explain it to me! Tell me why the Lochvaur should serve Rhyn’athel instead of Areyn. Tell me why we’re fighting this war when we all go to the demon god in the end. Tell me why your son serves Areyn Sehduk, demon-slayer.”
Rhyn stared speechlessly at her. When he regained his voice, it was in a low, throaty growl. “You would defy the warrior god?”
“I would — if Rhyn’athel is truly so weak,” she snapped. “Tell me why Rhyn’athel wasn’t among us today. Why we must face our own people in battle. Why Fialan is dead…”
“Fialan is dead because Areyn Sehduk slew him,” Rhyn said, his tone icy. “Rhyn’athel was with you today, whether you believe it or not. Areyn has ignored the Truce.” He paused, rage glowing in his eyes. “And don’t you dare defy the warrior god again.”
Lachlei found that she could not move. For the first time, she was actually afraid of Rhyn. But, when she spoke, her voice was steady. “Why such loyalty, Rhyn?” she asked softly. “You’ve been betrayed by Rhyn’athel, as I have. Look where we are. Look what we’re fighting.”
“Because Rhyn’athel created you as he created the Nine Worlds. His blood runs through our veins, Lachlei,” Rhyn said.
“Then he needs to take responsibility for what has happened,” she said. She stood up and left.
Rhyn watched her leave. As Lachlei left, she thought she heard him say: “He has, Lachlei. He has.”
*****
Imdyr rode across the windswept plains south towards Caer Lochvaren. Cloaked in invisibility, she rode past the Chi’lan and Laddel armies as they bivouacked in the cold fields under the graying sky. Imdyr paused and reined her horse. She guessed by the size of the army that they had maybe thirteen thousand. Most of the dead in battle had been Laddel, but the Chi’lan had taken a substantial loss.
She gazed on the encampment, trying to sense the warrior god. Areyn Sehduk had a right to fear this Athel’cen, if Rhyn’athel could sweep aside the death god’s powers like wind through dry leaves. Despite the tremendous power Areyn wielded and her loyalty to the gods of darkness, Imdyr felt drawn towards Rhyn’athel’s power. The strength and resolve was beyond anything she had experienced.
Imdyr hesitated. Entering the camp of her enemy seemed unthinkable, and yet, she hungered for Rhyn’athel’s power.
You’ll regret your decision, dark one.
Even now, the godling’s words taunted her. She had given herself completely to the demon god. Now, there was regret. Areyn was right when he said she was just a tool for him to use. Like any tool, once used and broken, she too would be cast aside. In her lust for power and control, Imdyr found she had none. Areyn had control. She would have nothing. She hated Areyn now. There were no rewards for servitude — only death. Even the Silren who now served him from fear were slowly being destroyed to sustain Areyn Sehduk’s power. And what use would she be when he was through with her?
Yet, Imdyr had seen hope in Lochvaur’s defiance. Lochvaur had no fear of Areyn, only hatred. Imdyr still might be able to turn from Areyn’s power. Yet, even as she thought this, Imdyr knew she could not. Not now. If she entered the Lochvaur camp, Rhyn’athel would learn her secret and destroy her. How could he not? There would be no forgiveness now.
I know what you carry, Lochvaur had said.
How could the godling see where Areyn could not? If Lochvaur could see, then Rhyn’athel surely could. Imdyr shuddered. She was twice cursed. She dug her heels into the steed and rode past the army towards Caer Lochvaren.
It took Imdyr a few days to reach the city-fortress of the Lochvaur. She gazed at the stone walls, keep, and the palisade fence wall that encircled the lower area of the city. The buildings within were wooden, not stone. She doubted that even the great hall or the council chambers were made of anything better than wood.
She paused now and focused on her face and hair. As she concentrated, she held the vision of Lachlei in her mind’s eye. Her hair became red-gold and her eyes became silver. The trappings of her horse shifted to gold and red. Her own armor changed to silver in color and her surcoat was red and gold.
When the transformation was complete, Imdyr knew she looked exactly like the Lochvaur queen. Only the most powerful Eleion or a god would be able to see through her guise.
She spurred the horse forward and entered through the gates. The guards saluted her as she rode in, but Imdyr ignored them. Riding through the lower gate and upward towards the main gate of the city, she barely glanced at the wooden shops and homes, nor at the people who were preparing for a siege. Lochvaur soldiers were everywhere, but again, she paid them no heed nor bothered to salute as she passed. At last, she reached the hall where the Lochvaur council sat. She dismounted, thrusting the reins into a guard’s hand and strode in.
The hall was dark, save for the light from the clerestories. It was late afternoon and the sun was already beginning its descent behind the Lochvaren Mountains. As Imdyr walked in, she saw a shadow move among the shadows.
“Lurking in the shadows as always, Laewynd?” she said, her voice dripping with scorn.
“I’m surprised you got through the guard, Imdyr,” Laewynd said as he stepped from the darkness. His silver eyes glowed menacingly. “Even a second-rate Chi’lan could see through that disguise.”
The rebuke stung, but Imdyr simply narrowed her gaze. She transformed into her Eltar shape. “It won’t be me who will be called a traitor, Laewynd,” she said. “Can you give me Caer Lochvaren?”
“Can you give me the throne?” Laewynd said.
Imdyr smiled. “You could’ve had it months ago if you had challenged Lachlei.”
“If I challenged Lachlei.” He chuckled. “Lachlei is too popular among the people; I am not. I had hoped she would let me handle the affairs of state — and for a time, she did…”
“You thought to make her a puppet since you couldn’t bend Fialan to your will. Only she has proven as headstrong as her former husband.” Imdyr smiled. “So, now you wish to depose her and take the Lochvaur throne? You have the Lochvaur army.”
“They’re not loyal to me — they are loyal to her. They would never turn on Lachlei.”
Imdyr smiled coldly and changed back into Lachlei’s form. “Then, let’s give them someone to be loyal to. They want Lachlei — we will give them Lachlei.”
CHAPTER Fifty-Eight
“She has a point,” Ni’yah said, as he watched Lachlei leave.
“Whose side are you on?” Rhyn’athel demanded. All around them, the warriors prepared for what litt
le rest they could, oblivious to the fact that two gods spoke in their midst.
“Yours, but sometimes I don’t know why,” the wolf-god said. “Honestly, brother, she’s right you know. You haven’t been interested in this world for two millennia.”
“The Truce…” he began and then fell silent. Even Rhyn’athel was tired of his own excuses. Why had he abandoned his Eleion all these years?
Ni’yah smiled. “See? It’s different down in the trenches. That’s why I’ve stayed here instead of Athelren.”
Rhyn’athel gazed at the wounded and battle-weary Eleion. How different it was in Athelren with its shining walls, lofty towers, thick forests, and towering mountains. The peace of Athelren had dulled him while all this time, Areyn Sehduk had been plotting his revenge. “I have been gone too long.”
“Indeed — I saw Lochvaur in battle,” Ni’yah said.
The warrior god scowled. “I did, too,” he admitted. “We had agreed that he should stay in Areyn’s realm…”
“But not to rot,” Ni’yah said.
“It was your idea.”
The wolf-god said nothing.
“Do you deny it?” Rhyn’athel pressed. “I was against it, if I recall.”
Ni’yah frowned. “Yes, it was my idea, and Lochvaur agreed. But it has been too long. Areyn will bring him back to fight against us along with the greatest of the Chi’lan. Regardless of the warriors you gather, we can’t defeat one hundred thousand of the very best of your blood.”
“Why didn’t I see this?” Rhyn’athel mused. “The Wyrd showed nothing of this.”
“Areyn is Athel’cen — same as you or I,” Ni’yah shrugged. “The Wyrd doesn’t reveal everything we set into motion.”
“No, but I should’ve seen this — how many warriors have we lost?”
“Two thousand or so,” Ni’yah said. “You’d have lost more if you didn’t retreat.”
“I should never have agreed to allow Lochvaur to go to Tarentor.”