Lachlei

by M. H. Bonham

  Imdyr was not much more than a child, really. Despite her bravado, Imdyr was still very young and probably emotionally immature. Lachlei knew nothing of the Eltar worship of Fala and Areyn, but she suspected that Imdyr had never had a true home once she was made a high priestess. Maybe she was apprenticed by the old priestess whose job she eventually took over. Lachlei tried to think back when she was so young — she had always been levelheaded, but many that age were impressionable and malleable. It would take little for a god like Areyn to twist Imdyr to his will, especially because the Eltar already encouraged it.

  Lachlei had heard of children being given up to serve a god, but the concept was foreign to her, since Rhyn’athel had no priests or priestesses; simply Chi’lan. The Chi’lan were traditionally Lochvaur, but there had been Eleion from other kindreds and even Shara’kai who chose to be Rhyn’athel’s warriors.

  Perhaps she could talk to Imdyr — gain her confidence? She looked back at the guards who still leered at her. If she had more time — but time was something Lachlei did not have. Not if she was to be brought before the demon lord in chains or if the guards decided to move on her. She could handle one guard while chained, but not if they both moved against her.

  Laddel had mentioned that her mother had been a shapeshifter, having inherited the power from Ni’yah, the wolf-god. Lachlei wondered if perhaps she had inherited the wolf-god’s powers as well.

  Twice first-blood, Telek had said when she overheard a bit of Rhyn and his conversation. Perhaps that combination made her more powerful than she originally thought. But what should she focus on becoming? Something small, perhaps. A rodent? She closed her eyes to concentrate, focusing her powers on becoming a mouse.

  Suddenly, she was thrown to the ground. Lachlei threw up her hands only to have them jerked above her. She tried to kick, but Tarel already had her pinned to the ground. He clapped a hand over her mouth as he pressed a knife against her throat.

  “Scream and you die,” Tarel growled. He removed his hand from her mouth and slid his hand under the arming shirt and hauberk to loosen the padded breeches. He grinned at his companion. “We’ll take turns.”

  Not fear, but anger exploded inside Lachlei mind. Her guts twisted, and suddenly she found herself free of the chains. She tried to yell, but her voice was the scream of an animal. Looking down at her feet, she saw large paws instead of hands. She looked up at the guard, who was just as surprised as she was seeing a red wolf standing in place of a woman.

  Ni’yah, Lachlei thought. The Laddel are descended from him. It made sense that the easiest form to take would be that of a wolf. She wondered how she managed the transformation. Perhaps it was her anger or desperation.

  “What is that, a witch?” Tarel’s companion gasped, pulling her out of her reverie.

  “I’ll show it how we deal with Rhyn’athel’s witches,” Tarel said. He brandished the knife and leapt at her.

  Lachlei leapt on the Eltar. Tarel screamed as she lunged at his throat, her teeth closing around the soft skin and pulling back. A sharp pain ripped through her side as the man flailed.

  Then, Lachlei was suddenly Eleion again. She pulled Tarel’s dagger from her side and stared at the man as he lay dying, his throat ripped out. The other Eltar guard screamed and fled in horror.

  Lachlei bent over and retched. The smell of blood was overwhelming and it sickened her what she had to do.

  Lachlei turned and saw that Tarel carried Fyren. She took the swordbelt from around the dead man’s waist and buckled it around her own. She hesitated. Would it even change with her? She paused, trying to decide what to do.

  “Where is she?” Lachlei heard Imdyr’s voice from the camp. Lachlei turned and fled into the thick forest, but she knew they would track her. Each gasp of breath was white-hot as she ran; her side ached with the knife wound. When, at last, she didn’t think she had the strength to continue, she stopped at a tree to catch her breath.

  She drew Fyren and stared at it a long while. Would it change with her if she tried again? Her clothes had changed when she turned into a wolf. Maybe her sword would too.

  She sheathed Fyren and closed her eyes. She now concentrated on becoming a wolf. At first, nothing happened. But then, she felt her guts twist and when she looked down, she had changed back into a wolf. Fyren had changed with her. She sighed in relief and padded deeper into the forest.

  *****

  Lachlei moved quickly through the forest, hoping to evade her captors. In wolf form, she was faster than she could move as an Eleion. In retrospect, she should have realized the easiest form to take would be a wolf — legend had it that Ni’yah, after all, was a wolf when he assumed a different form. And yet, she was not a true lycanthrope. Her clothing had remained intact when she changed back and took Fyren from the Eltar guard. Fyren had changed with her when she transmuted.

  It had been an hour since she escaped the chains. Her wolf guise proved handy when the Eltar search parties combed the forest. The other guard may or may not have reported that she had changed into a wolf — and if he did, would Imdyr believe him?

  Lachlei stopped now. The smell of blood was overpowering, and she was feeling weak. She turned and looked at the long gash along her ribcage. She was bleeding again, and she tentatively licked the wound. The point of the dagger had entered just below the last rib. With so much adrenaline pumping through her body and her fear of the Eltar recapturing her, she had not had time to assess the damage.

  She had lost a lot of blood. Furthermore, the dagger had penetrated her liver and part of her spleen. Lachlei realized she should have been dead, but for her first-blood constitution. She would die if she could not transform back into an Eleion and use her healing powers.

  She lay down and tried to concentrate, but she was too weak. She heard a demon scream overhead and closed her eyes. By the time the demon found her, she would be dead. Areyn would have a victory. Perhaps he would make her a Braesan like he had Fialan and force her to fight against her own people. But, she would be with Fialan at last…

  Another demon screamed. This time, much closer.

  The thought of joining Fialan did not comfort her. Instead, she opened her eyes and saw a demon land nearby. It clacked its jaws together and approached her. She closed her eyes again, not wanting to see the end.

  Rhyn’athel, help me, she thought.

  Suddenly, there were sounds of steel clashing against claws. The demon screamed, and Lachlei opened her eyes to see the glowing warrior attack the creature. The Sword of Power plunged deep into the beast and it shrieked loudly. The warrior turned to her.

  Lachlei? a familiar voice came into her mind.

  Rhyn? she thought, but she had no strength left to mindspeak.

  “Shhhh, beloved,” Rhyn said absently. “You’re badly hurt.”

  She felt his hands move along her ribcage and she whined softly. How did he know it was her in this wolf body? She felt his warm hands heal the organs and close the wound. As she began to gain strength, she opened her eyes and lifted her head. To her amazement, she was in Eleion form again. “You came for me,” she whispered.

  Rhyn smiled. “Of course I did,” he said. “Save your energy and let yourself heal. We have some hard riding ahead of us, and Areyn’s demons are looking for you.”

  Lachlei stared at the smoldering body of the demon nearby. “Imdyr,” she said. “There was a girl named Imdyr who claims to be Areyn’s consort. She had me captured.”

  Rhyn looked puzzled. “Imdyr?” he said. “I don’t recognize the name. A girl, you say?”

  “Yes — just sixteen or seventeen,” Lachlei said. She slowly sat up. “Do you have any water? Those beasts didn’t give me any.”

  Rhyn handed her his canteen and she drank greedily. “Odd, I don’t know of any Imdyr.” He seemed lost in thought.

  Lachlei gave him a long appraising look. “Why should you? She’s Eltar.”

  Rhyn smiled. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “I shouldn’t.”


  “How did you find me? We need to get out of here...”

  “Easy,” he said, pushing her back down. “Rest a bit. The demons won’t attack while I’m with you. I found you through the Wyrd, but it wasn’t easy. Areyn tried to keep you from me.”

  Lachlei stared at him for a moment. What are you? she wondered, but instead, she asked, “What about our army?”

  “Cahal, Telek, and Laddel are leading them away from Caer Lochvaren. They’ll be joining what’s left of the Lochvaur army.”

  “And the civilians?” Lachlei felt her mouth go dry. What about Haellsil and Wynne?

  “Your son is all right,” Rhyn said. “Wynne had enough foresight to escape before Caer Lochvaren was razed.”

  “How many civilians escaped?”

  Rhyn frowned. “Maybe ten thousand.”

  “Ten thousand?” Lachlei closed her eyes. “Out of forty thousand civilians? What of the army?”

  “Maybe twenty thousand if we include the stragglers, but the Elesil have joined us.”

  “By Teiwaz, Rhyn,” she whispered. “The Lochvaur have nearly been exterminated.”

  “Many have sought refuge in the Lochvaren Mountains,” he said.

  “And you left the army to find me?” Lachlei asked, her temper beginning to rise. “You shouldn’t have come.”

  “What was I to do? Leave you to Areyn?”

  “If need be. I can take care of myself.”

  “Not against Areyn Sehduk,” Rhyn replied, his voice rising.

  “And you believe that you could do something against the god of death?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You would have to be Athel’cen.”

  Rhyn said nothing but met her gaze. When he finally spoke, his tone was measured carefully. “I make no apology, Lachlei. Now, if you are well enough to ride, I suggest we do so. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

  CHAPTER Sixty-Seven

  Lachlei rode silently beside Rhyn. She now regretted their argument. She had shown Rhyn no gratefulness for saving her life, something she now wanted to do, and yet when she turned to speak to him, he silenced her with a glance.

  She suspected that they were in the forests northeast of Caer Lochvaren, not far from the King’s Highway, but just east of the mountains. The forest was broken with large meadows and the land was rolling, not flat. Lachlei heard the screams of the demons overhead, but Rhyn appeared unconcerned. Instead, he seemed to look into another world; his eyes slightly out of focus. They continued to ride southward through the forest for hours until dusk.

  Rhyn reined his horse and dismounted.

  “Why are we stopping?” Lachlei asked.

  “We should rest,” Rhyn replied. “We have another full day and night’s travel before we reach the army.” He looked into the sky, scanning it for something.

  “What about the demons?” Lachlei asked, dismounting from her horse. She stretched slowly and looked up where he was gazing, but saw nothing. “What are you looking for?”

  He glanced down at her and smiled. “Patterns in the Wyrd,” he said. “With the Athel’cen in this world, the Wyrd is changing at an alarming rate.”

  “The Athel’cen are here?” Lachlei asked.

  “Of course,” he said, distractedly as he stared at something she could not see. “You wouldn’t expect Areyn’s presence here to go unanswered, do you?”

  Lachlei gazed at Rhyn for a while, but he did not elaborate. “What about the demons?” she ventured.

  He glanced at her again. “They’re following us, but they know I’m here so they don’t dare make their move.” He paused. “Did you see Areyn?”

  “No,” Lachlei said. “Just his Eltar and the woman named Imdyr.”

  Rhyn looked puzzled and let his eyes glaze over again. “Imdyr,” he murmured and then shook his head as his eyes came back into focus. “Odd, I can’t see her.”

  “Rhyn,” Lachlei began. “I’m sorry I…”

  The North Marches Chi’lan shook his head and grinned. “Lachlei, I understand.” He gripped her shoulder affectionately. “Stay close to me. I’m the only reason the demons aren’t coming for you.”

  “Why are they after me? Because I’m Rhyn’athel’s champion?” Lachlei asked.

  “It has something to do with that, yes,” he said. He turned and began gathering dead wood for a fire.

  “Won’t the fire attract the demons?” Lachlei asked.

  “They already know we’re here,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. They won’t attack tonight.”

  Lachlei followed him silently. Rhyn seemed more enigmatic than ever now. She wanted to ask about the Athel’cen and how he knew that they were in Elren. She wanted to ask him how he could see the Wyrd when no mortal could. She had a million questions and no answers. She wanted to trust him, but he seemed unwilling to say much more.

  She helped gather the firewood and made a small fire in a clearing where the wind had blown the snow from the ground. As the shadows deepened, they sat and ate in silence. Lachlei gazed at Rhyn, feeling very much alone in her thoughts. The North Marches Chi’lan was aloof, apparently concentrating on something far away. Lachlei bit into the hardtack and grimaced. She stood up and searched her horse’s pack for more edible food, but found little.

  “Just hardtack, Rhyn?” she asked.

  Rhyn shrugged. “I was in a hurry.”

  Lachlei laughed and sat beside him. “I would imagine so. Why did you come after me?”

  Rhyn smiled grimly. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked.

  Lachlei felt a twist in her stomach. It was not the answer she was prepared to hear. Instead, she spread a bedroll beside the fire, hoping that the layers would at least keep her dry, and lay on them. She looked into the skies and saw that wisps of clouds were beginning to form. A shadow passed swiftly overhead and she shivered as she felt the presence of a demon.

  “You’re safe,” Rhyn assured her, looking up. “They won’t come near.”

  “There’s no way I can sleep,” she muttered. “Not with those things flying above us.”

  “You should sleep. We have a long ride ahead.”

  Lachlei closed her eyes, but her senses were on alert. She could see the demons with her Sight, passing overhead and circling like hungry wolves. Each scream caused her to jolt fully awake. At last, she turned over and looked at him. “I can’t sleep.”

  “Nor, I,” he admitted. “The demons require too much of my attention.”

  “Can you tell me a story?” she asked, propping her head with her hands.

  He grinned. “I think I can. What do you want to hear?”

  “About Rhyn’athel,” she said.

  “Rhyn’athel?”

  “You seem to know more about Eleion history than anyone I’ve ever known. Certainly, you know more about the warrior god than I do. And I am his champion.”

  Rhyn smiled. “I suppose I do. What would you like me to tell you? How he defeated Areyn the first time?”

  She shook her head. “No. Tell me a story I haven’t heard.”

  “How about the story of where he falls in love with a mortal woman?”

  Lachlei smiled as she closed her eyes. “He did?”

  “Oh yes,” Rhyn said. “Rhyn’athel’s brother, Ni’yah, played a trick on the warrior god and convinced him to come to Elren to see his champion. Ni’yah led Rhyn’athel to her and he fell hopelessly in love…”

  Lachlei opened her silver eyes. “Was she pretty?”

  “More lovely than the goddesses of Athelren,” Rhyn replied. “But that wouldn’t have mattered; for he saw her heart and knew she was the embodiment of the Chi’lan.”

  “How romantic,” Lachlei murmured as she closed her eyes again. “Did she love him?”

  “She didn’t know he was a god, for he had taken an Eleion form. She turned from him because she loved another she could not have…”

  “Then, she was foolish.”

  “Perhaps,” said Rhyn, amusement coloring his voice. “Or perhaps she was b
linded by her love for another. She didn’t know he was Rhyn’athel.”

  “I would think she would know if there was a god in her midst,” Lachlei said sleepily. “I would.”

  “Perhaps you would,” Rhyn said. He fell silent.

  Lachlei found herself drifting off to sleep in spite of her edginess. “Rhyn?” she murmured. “Did Rhyn’athel finally win her love?”

  Rhyn said nothing for some time. Lachlei found she could not stay awake and eventually drifted off. Her rhythmic breathing told him she was asleep. Even so, Lachlei thought she heard him speak softly. I don’t know, beloved. That part of the tale is still unfinished.

  *****

  Rhyn’athel stared at the Wyrd threads as they coursed through the world. The patterns were changing rapidly, leaving gaps where there had been none before. Three Athel’cen within the same world was too much of a focal point for the Wyrd not to be changed. Areyn knew it, too, and sent the demons to find a hole in Rhyn’athel’s defenses. But there were none. Rhyn’athel had been careful to construct an impenetrable shield. The demons could not find a breach within his powers. Not now. Rhyn’athel would shed his mortal body before allowing them to take Lachlei again.

  But he could feel a tremor along the Wyrd. The Eternal Fire that fed the Wyrd was crackling against the slim fetters that held it in check. He could sense the Fyr-dragons move though the flames of creation and destruction. They were normally dormant, but now they awoke. He could feel their presence throughout the Wyrd strands.

  Rhyn’athel closed his eyes. It would not be long before one escaped that fiery realm.

  *****

  Lachlei awoke to sunlight breaking through the trees. She shivered in the blankets by the dying embers. She looked to see Rhyn already packing his equipment.

  “You’ve been up a while,” Lachlei remarked, sitting up. “Couldn’t you sleep?”

  “No,” Rhyn said. “I’ll sleep when we return to the army.”

  “It’s the Wyrd, isn’t it?”