by M. H. Bonham
Kerri’s grim expression told Wynne that she did not believe they would see Tragar or the others again.
“I’m sorry, Kerri,” Wynne said. “I only wish I had found out in time.”
Kerri paused as they entered the keep. People pressed around them as Kerri threw open the doors to the keep. “It’s all right. If he can find a way to get out, he will. Tragar is Chi’lan.”
Tragar was Chi’lan, but even a Chi’lan would not survive, Wynne thought darkly as the crowd jostled her towards the escape tunnel. She said nothing of her thoughts, instead winding her way down the stairs that were carved from the native stone. It was slick with moss, and Wynne held Haellsil close as she stepped downward. One fall and she was likely to never stand up again with the throng pushing around her.
Darkness swallowed them. Wynne could feel the panic rise within her until her eyes adjusted. She felt a firm hand and looked to see Kerri pulling her along. “Come on, Wynne, we’ll be out of here soon.”
The sound of the battle became muffled and then — nothing. The silence was eerie. All Wynne could hear were the ragged breaths of those around them. How far? she wondered.
“There’s a door!” came a voice. Wynne could barely discern oaken doors ahead. She watched as several warriors pulled the bar away from the doors. They pushed, and a crack of light streamed in. The crowd surged and shoved the doors open. Wynne nearly stumbled as the throng forced her out and into the blinding light of morning. She nearly wept to see the red rays of Sowelu as it crested the mountains and feel the cold mountain air. They stood amid the pines as more Lochvaur left the tunnel.
“You’re all right,” said Kerri. Wynne touched her face and realized she was weeping. Haellsil began crying.
Wynne picked up a skin of milk she had brought. “I’m all right,” she said. Though where they would go, she had no idea.
*****
Lachlei reined her horse and gazed into the valley where, just beyond, lay the shining walls of Caer Lochvaren. She turned to Rhyn and smiled. “Gods, Rhyn, it’ll be good to be behind Caer Lochvaren’s walls again.”
Rhyn returned the smile, but he was not as certain. Something was nagging him, even though his connection to the Wyrd seemingly showed everything to be all right. Something was wrong, but he could not place what it was.
Telek met his gaze. What do you suspect? His wolf eyes mirrored his concern.
I don’t know, Rhyn said. Areyn’s power was growing, but how he was not sure. They continued riding into the valley, apparently unchallenged.
The valley was actually a series of hills that led to the plain which Caer Lochvaren overlooked. The approach was concealed — if one did not know that the city was there, it could be easily missed.
Even as they rode, tension began to mount. Rhyn said nothing, but continued to reach out with his senses, trying to discern something wrong. He felt Areyn’s shields and found them impenetrable. Was that even possible? he wondered.
It was when they climbed the hill that overlooked the valley into Caer Lochvaren that both Lachlei and Rhyn reined their horses in disbelief. Smoke rose over what had been Caer Lochvaren. The gates were ripped asunder and the walls laid low.
“By Rhyn’athel’s sword!” gasped Lachlei. “Areyn has been here!”
CHAPTER Sixty-Four
The Elesil and Silren army rode down the hill into the battle. Kieran turned to fight the next Braesan, but a curious thing happened. The Braesan began to retreat. The Lochvaur soldiers stared in puzzlement as the Undead withdrew.
“What is this? A trap?” Kieran said aloud. The other Lochvaur look no less puzzled. Some began pursuing the fleeing Braesan; others stood as Kieran did, confused by the Undead’s actions. The Braesan had the advantage — what were they doing?
“Rhyn’athel! Rhyn’athel!” A Silren woman led a charge right into the Braesan lines, swinging her broadsword.
“They’re with us!” Kieran exclaimed. “To me! To me! Warriors of Rhyn’athel!”
The Lochvaur soldiers took up the cry. “Rhyn’athel! Rhyn’athel!” They charged the Braesan. Caught between two armies, the Braesan fell back. Then, as suddenly as the Braesan appeared, they disappeared.
“Gods! What manner of devilry is this?” Mirin spoke. She was one of the Lochvaur soldiers standing beside Kieran.
“Perhaps none,” Kieran said as he watched the mist disappear and the Elesil ranks shrink in number. “This is first-blood doing, or I’m not a Chi’lan. I have heard of such illusions, but I have never seen them.” He stared at the woman who rode towards him. She was a warrior among warriors, even though her white hair and blue eyes distinguished her as Silren. A warrior bearing an Elesil surcoat rode beside her. His bearing suggested first-blood or at least nobility.
“Who is she?” Mirin whispered.
Kieran shook his head. “She’s Chi’lan.”
“She can’t be, she’s Silren,” the soldier replied.
Kieran shook his head. “Silren or not, she’s Chi’lan,” he said. “I’d bet my life on that — she bears the look of one who serves Rhyn’athel.”
“Who’s in charge?” the woman called as she rode forward. The Elesil rode beside her.
“I am,” Kieran said. She turned her ice-blue eyes on him, and he repressed a shudder. She was indeed Chi’lan. Only Lachlei held more power in her gaze.
“The Lochvaur owe you a debit of gratitude,” he said. “I am Kieran, Chi’lan warrior and member of the Lochvaur High Council.”
“I am Cara, daughter of Silvain.” Cara turned to the Elesil warrior. “This is Conlan, king of the Elesil. We were told you needed help.”
“That we did. If you hadn’t arrived, we would’ve been destroyed.”
Cara gazed over the soldiers. “Where’s your queen? Where are the Chi’lan?”
“I don’t know. We were led this way by a shapeshifter posing as Lachlei,” Kieran said. “She led us into this trap.”
Cara glanced at Conlan. Alarm glowed in the Elesil king’s eyes. “What about Caer Lochvaren?”
Kieran’s eyes widened as he realized the implications. “By Rhyn’athel’s sword!”
“Gather what warriors you can — we have a hard ride ahead,” Cara said. “Hopefully, we’re not too late.”
*****
Rhyn reined his horse and stared at the Braesan materializing before the army. The Laddel and Chi’lan army were caught between the Areyn’s army of living and his army of Braesan. The Chi’lan and Laddel were thrown into confusion. “How?” he roared. “Damn him! Damn Areyn and his demon spawn!”
“It’s a trap!” Lachlei shouted.
“Rhyn’athel! Rhyn’athel!” Cahal shouted. “Charge!” The Chi’lan commander broke from the other commanders with sword brandished, leading a charge directly at the Braesan. The Braesan attacked and forced them into a retreat.
Ni’yah reined his horse beside his brother, his brass eyes wide in shock. “How could we have not seen this?”
Rhyn’athel made no reply. For the first time, he felt completely helpless against Areyn. He focused his powers on the Braesan army, but this time he was met with a strong rebuff. He turned his powers on the Silren and Eltar, and still nothing.
“Brother!” shouted Ni’yah.
Rhyn’athel shook his head.
Lachlei rode up, Fyren drawn and already bloody. “Do something!”
“I’m trying!” Rhyn’athel turned to Ni’yah. “We must break his link to Tarentor, it’s the only way.”
Lachlei glanced at them. “While you argue, my army is getting slaughtered.” She brandished Fyren. “To me! To me!” she shouted, clapping her legs against the warhorse’s sides.
“What are you doing?” Rhyn demanded.
“I’m leading us out of here!” she shouted and took off.
“No! Lachlei! Wait!” Rhyn shouted, but she was already out of earshot. The Braesan were driving her army towards the gates of Caer Lochvaren where the Silren and Eltar waited. Rhyn knew that she would try to turn
the army eastward to evade the trap. It was risky and required greater speed.
Ni’yah grasped Rhyn’athel’s arm. “Leave her! If we have a chance to stop them, it’s now. Both our powers combined.”
Rhyn’athel nodded and drew Teiwaz. Ni’yah drew his own sword, Dagaz and crossed it against the warrior god’s own blade. Flames leapt from the two Athel’cen swords and raced towards the Braesan.
*****
“Lachlei!” Cahal shouted as Lachlei rode to the front lines. Cahal was still on his warhorse, but she could see both he and his horse were injured.
“Cahal!” Lachlei said. “Retreat! East!”
“East?” Cahal repeated. He paused. “Lachlei, look! By the gods of light — what is that?” She followed his line of sight to the hill she had left.
Lachlei stared as well. Two glowing warriors sat on their steeds with swords crossed, flames racing towards the Braesan as they advanced. But the flames halted before the Undead troops. They did not touch the enemy lines, but the enemy could not advance.
A scream came from above. Lachlei looked up to see demons appear overhead. One flew right for her. Sheer chaos followed. Her warhorse reared and threw her to the ground. She rolled and within moments, the demon was on top of her. Lachlei thrust Fyren upward as the arch-demon slashed down on her. A poisonous talon slashed through her armor and grazed her skin. She slid from the demon’s grasp and turned to face it.
“Behind you!” shouted Cahal, but it was too late.
A blow from behind hit her helm and she fell to her knees stunned. The poison began to burn in her veins. She fell unconscious and knew no more.
*****
“Lachlei!” Rhyn’athel saw the demons swoop towards her. He broke contact with Ni’yah’s sword and spurred his horse forward.
“Rhyn’athel! What are you doing?” Ni’yah shouted.
Rhyn’athel turned back. For a moment, he looked as if he would answer. Instead, he rode through the enemy to reach Lachlei. He arrived to see the demon grasp her and disappear.
“NO!”
The rage the warrior god felt was indescribable. He unleashed his power, slamming it against Areyn’s shields, but to little avail. Rhyn’athel was weakening — he could feel it with each death — his power was slipping from him and slowly feeding Areyn Sehduk.
“What are you doing?” Ni’yah said, riding now beside him. “She’s gone.”
“No, she’s not!” Rhyn’athel said, his eyes glowing.
“Even if she isn’t, we’re being destroyed.”
“Lead the army away,” Rhyn’athel said. “I must find her.”
“Don’t be a fool! I can’t stand up to Areyn!” Ni’yah snapped.
“You’ll have to until I return.” Suddenly, he was gone, and the entire Eleion army stood twenty miles away on Darkling Plain. The Braesan, the demons, the Eltar, and the Silren were gone. Instead, the Chi’lan and the Laddel were now looking at the Elesil and Lochvaur army.
“By Rhyn’athel’s mane!” Cahal said, pulling his helm off and staring the two armies. He turned to Telek. “Rhyn did this, didn’t he?”
Telek smiled grimly. “Yes, he did. He’s gone after Lachlei. Gather what’s left of our army. Rhyn has given us some time, but not much.”
CHAPTER Sixty-Five
Lachlei awoke in chains. A sharp pain knifed through her shoulder as she moved, bringing her back to consciousness. She groaned. Her stomach was queasy, and she had a throbbing headache. Her last memory was fighting one of the demons when she was clubbed from behind. Now she lay in the mud, covered with blood and dirt. She was in an encampment with tents around her. Eleion warriors with dark manes and dark eyes strode past her, a few glancing down and smirking as they saw her pull against the chain.
Without a distinguishing landmark, she had no idea where she was, except in a forest. She could be near the Great Plains of Elesilren or further away. She knew that she was in the enemy’s camp, but saw neither Braesan nor Silren. These Eltar, she suspected, were reinforcements.
She moved and became violently ill, vomiting. The pain in her shoulder stabbed through her. Poison, she thought. The demon used poison. But why did it keep her alive?
“So, this is the great Lachlei,” spoke a sardonic voice.
Lachlei tried to focus on the wound in her shoulder, but found she could not heal it. She was either too weak or the demon poison counteracted her magic. Instead, she looked up, wiping her eyes clear of the mud with her good hand. The manacle pulled against her and she frowned. Whatever the reason, her captors were keeping her movements limited.
An Eltar woman strode into view, flanked by two guards. She was tall with dark, plaited hair, and wore black mail. Her arms were crossed, and she scowled at Lachlei as the Chi’lan queen lay there. Lachlei stared back at her.
“What are you staring at?” the Eltar demanded.
“I didn’t know the death god used children,” Lachlei said. “How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?”
The woman’s face twisted in anger. She kicked Lachlei in the stomach. “Get up, bitch! My lord will be coming for you.”
The kick sent Lachlei into another round of retching. The Eltar smiled, enjoying Lachlei’s predicament. When Lachlei stopped heaving, she looked up at the woman. “Who are you? Who is your lord?”
“I am Imdyr, high priestess and consort of Areyn Sehduk,” she said. “Areyn is my lord; he will soon be your lord.”
Lachlei said nothing. The girl was mad; that much she was sure of. Imdyr strode up to Lachlei and grasped her by the hair. “I don’t see what’s so special about you,” Imdyr sneered. “A great Chi’lan warrior laid low by demon poison.”
Lachlei brought her hand up in a palm-heel strike, hitting Imdyr hard under the chin and sending her sprawling backwards. Her guards caught her, and one moved towards Lachlei, sword drawn. Lachlei backed against the tree, but she had nowhere to go.
“Wait, Tarel!” Imdyr barked out. Tarel halted and glanced at Imdyr. “Areyn wants her alive.”
“Pity,” Tarel remarked. His eyes raked over Lachlei and he grinned. “Perhaps we can amuse ourselves in other ways.”
“Just try,” Lachlei growled, her silver eyes locked on the Eltar. “You’ll find yourself missing vital parts.”
The Eltar laughed. “I like a challenge,” he said, gripping her chin and pressing the blade against her neck.
Lachlei could feel his hot breath against her face. She wondered how much damage they would inflict on her if she broke his neck now.
“Enough, Tarel!” Imdyr snapped. “I don’t think Areyn would appreciate having his prize spoiled.”
“Pity,” Tarel remarked. “I could show you what a real man is like.”
“How would you know? Or have you experienced one?”
Tarel brought his arm back to strike. Lachlei’s knee impacted his groin and sent him sprawling. The other guard leapt forward, but Imdyr gripped his arm. “Don’t,” she said, her dark eyes glittering menacingly. “Areyn will have his fun with her soon enough.” She turned to Lachlei. “In the meantime, bitch, you’d better behave yourself. I can’t hold my men off you if you continue to taunt them.” She turned to the guard again. “Pick him up!” she snarled as she glanced at Tarel. As the other guard helped Tarel up, the Eltar gave her a murderous glance before stumbling away.
*****
Rhyn’athel rode through the night. At first, he had thought he could track the demon without following the trail, but he soon realized that Areyn was blocking his powers. The Wyrd was now a confusing tangle of threads, many branching out along the World Tree. He gazed on the threads as he rode, but with so many Athel’cen in one place, there was no clear path. Without a clear trail, Rhyn’athel was forced to follow the thread the demon laid across the Wyrd.
Lachlei. His thoughts were on her and nothing else. The loss of the army, the Braesan, and even Elren, itself, were inconsequential. Areyn knew the new Wyrd prophecy, and he would do everything within his power to keep Lachlei fro
m the warrior god. Even if it meant killing her. Areyn would destroy her rather than to have the balance decided.
Rhyn’athel admonished himself for failing to stay beside Lachlei. He had stayed away in deference to her feelings, but had left her unguarded. Even if he could not have her, Rhyn’athel could not bear seeing her at the mercy of the death god. The anger now burned hot inside him, and he used all his powers to search for her.
Nothing. He slowed his warhorse as he gazed into the night’s sky. Something was blocking his ability to sense where she was. Areyn should not have been able to do it. Something else. Something of a very old line. Could Areyn have found a Wyrd-blood to serve him?
Wyrd-blood. That would explain Rhyn’athel’s apparent lack of power. If Areyn had a Wyrd-blood serving him, he would be able to hide much. Rhyn’athel hoped he’d be able to find Lachlei in time before Areyn…
Rhyn’athel forced the thought from his mind. He had never been jealous, but the thought of Areyn alone with Lachlei angered him. The anger drove him forward, and he urged his horse faster.
If he could only rescue her in time…
CHAPTER Sixty-Six
Lachlei sat back down in the mud and considered her options. Despite her powers, Lachlei found she could neither open the adamantine manacles nor break the chains that bound her to the tree. There was some spell that prevented her from opening the fetters. She looked around, but saw nothing she could use to her advantage, so she sat and tried to think of possible ways of escape.
The Eltar guards leered at her and she frowned. She doubted their fear of Areyn’s reprisal would hold them back for very long. They seemed more fearful of Imdyr than Areyn, which suggested that perhaps they had not dealt directly with the death god yet. Imdyr was another matter. Lachlei could sense her power, despite her young age. Could she really be Areyn’s high priestess and consort? Consort? The implication disgusted her and she shook her head, trying the clear the image of the demon lord taking advantage of the girl.