by M. H. Bonham
“Lochvaur agreed to go to Tarentor to keep the Truce — and to remind you that every day your people are in Areyn’s hands.”
“Don’t you think I’ve thought about Lochvaur every day since his death?” the warrior god said heavily. “He’s my son, Ni’yah.”
“And the Eleion and Ansgar are your people. I would’ve thought you’d at least consider claiming the Lochvaur — your blood runs through their veins.”
“Peace — the argument is pointless. The Truce is broken now. Now I must find a way to keep Areyn from escalating this war to the rest of the Nine Worlds.” Rhyn’athel paused and shook his head. “Two thousand lost and now Lachlei despises me.”
“She just saw her dead husband — she is confused. Give her time.”
“Time isn’t something I have,” Rhyn’athel replied. “Nor does she.”
*****
Lachlei left Rhyn, her mind in confusion. Gods! Did he have to be so damn loyal to the warrior god? She knew the answer. Rhyn was a Guardian, and that alone would make him beholden to Rhyn’athel. Guardians were lesser spirits — not gods, not Eleion. Something in between. Yet he had been eager to make love to her — something Guardians seldom did.
And she nearly loved him. Now her emotions were mixed. Fialan was here in this world. Even if Fialan were dead as Rhyn said, Lachlei couldn’t break the vows she made to him. He had been her husband for three years. She barely knew Rhyn. She had not even known he had a son. What other secrets might this Guardian possess?
And yet — she could not deny her feelings for Rhyn. He had saved her life now countless times, and she had saved his once. He had been her counselor and her friend. He had been at her side since Fialan’s death. But now Fialan was alive. That changed things.
“Lachlei,” Cahal’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “We need a first-blood to tend to the wounded.”
“Where’s Rhyn?” she asked, and then fell silent. She met his steady gaze. “Show them to me — I’ll do what I can.”
Cahal led her to the wounded. The numbers were staggering. Men and women alike lay with terrible battle wounds. The anguished cries rang out over the field as healers did what they could to staunch the bleeding and bandage the injuries. Laddel was speaking with Telek when Lachlei arrived. Telek looked up, and Lachlei found herself staring into brass eyes that spoke of terrible power.
What are you? she wondered. A Guardian?
“I am Telek,” the warrior said. But I am known by many names. He turned his wolf gaze back to the man they were working on.
Laddel glanced up. “My son, Ladsil, is working with Rhyn. We could use your help as a healer, Lachlei.”
“This way,” Cahal said, leading her to the wounded at the far end.
Lachlei glanced at Telek and then at Cahal. “What is Telek?”
Cahal shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“He’s powerful, whatever he is.”
Cahal nodded. They stepped over and walked around many with superficial wounds until they stood before wounded that had been laid haphazardly. Lachlei halted in horror. Many were not her own, but Braesan from Areyn’s own army. Their skin was deathly pale, and their silver eyes held a reddish cast to them. The stench of death was unmistakable. Rhyn had been kneeling beside one, while Laddel’s son, Ladsil, worked on one of Lachlei’s own warriors.
“The Braesan have become mixed with our own,” Lachlei said. “Damn Areyn for using our own dead!”
Rhyn looked up, his face grim. “I can’t do anything for them,” he said.
“Why not?” Lachlei asked softly.
“It’s part of Areyn’s dark magic,” he said. “Look.” He touched the man’s arm.
The Braesan screamed in agony and writhed under Rhyn’s touch. Rhyn pulled his hand away. Ugly red welts appeared where Rhyn touched him.
“By Rhyn’athel’s sword,” Lachlei breathed. “Would it do that for me?”
Rhyn shook his head. “No, but you’d damage him further if you tried to heal him,” he said. “His body is Areyn’s creation, not Rhyn’athel’s. We can’t save them.” He drew his sword.
“What are you doing?” Lachlei gasped as Rhyn knelt down beside the man again.
Rhyn looked up. “The only thing I can to ease his suffering.” He looked at the man, regret in his face. “Forgive me, Lochsil,” he murmured. “Loyal warrior.” With one quick thrust, he plunged the blade in the man’s chest. The man shuddered once and lay still. His body became ash and blew away in the breeze.
“You just killed him,” Lachlei said, when she found her voice. “You killed a wounded man.”
Rhyn looked grim. “I destroyed the body of a Braesan — an Undead. He was already dead, Lachlei. He will return to fight against us.”
She shuddered. “You would kill Fialan?”
Rhyn’s face hardened. “Like I would kill my own son,” he said. “Lachlei — I do what I must…”
But she had already turned from him and focused on her own wounded.
CHAPTER Fifty-Nine
“We can’t stay here,” Rhyn said. A few hours after caring for the wounded, he had joined the other commanders in an impromptu meeting in a small grove of trees where the army had bivouacked. Each one of the commanders was a familiar face: Lachlei, Cahal, Tamar, Kellachan, Laddel, Ladsil, and Telek. Each one looked as exhausted as he felt.
The strain of destroying Areyn’s Undead, combined with the battle, maintaining an impervious shield, and keeping the mortal guise had left Rhyn’athel with few reserves. He could not access all his powers as a mortal as easily as he could as a god. So, this is what it is like to be mortal, he thought. The seemingly endless supply of power was not there.
“Why can’t we stay?” Lachlei asked, but there was no challenge to her voice — only weariness. She closed her eyes in exhaustion. Healing what wounded she could had sapped most of her energy. Looking around at the other first-bloods, Rhyn could see that the wounded alone had taken a heavy toll on them. “You said we’d be safe until Caer Lochvaren.”
Rhyn frowned. He had spoken too soon and was now paying for his optimism. “I assumed that I destroyed most of Areyn’s minions. He managed to shield some of them — primarily the Silren. He’s gone to the Eltar and will bring warriors from their kindred.”
“The Eltar?” Cahal spoke. “Damn those demon spawn! As if we didn’t have enough trouble with the Silren and probably the Elesil.”
“The Elesil are not our concern,” Telek spoke. He met Rhyn’s gaze. I believe I’ve taken care of that.
“How can they not be?” Lachlei asked.
“If Telek says they’re not our concern — we can assume they’re not our concern,” Laddel spoke sharply.
Lachlei glared. “I can’t simply take his word on it!” she snapped. “I have a whole kindred at stake…”
“Lachlei,” Rhyn said. “Telek has taken care of the Elesil.”
“How, Rhyn?” she turned on him. “How could one man suddenly change an alliance? He couldn’t possibly travel to Caer Elesilren and back from here in the time necessary — it’s almost a hundred miles.”
Rhyn glanced at Telek, whose face was unreadable. He looked around at the faces. Cahal and Tamar exchanged glances; Rhyn knew that they already had suspicions as to who he and Telek really were. Laddel already knew Rhyn’athel was there, and there were whispers among the Laddel kindred that the wolf-god was among them.
“Lachlei,” Rhyn said. “Perhaps it is time for me to explain something…”
“The first-blood Laddel are shapeshifters,” Laddel said suddenly. Rhyn and Telek glanced at each other, but said naught.
“Shapeshifters?” Lachlei stared.
“We’ve inherited the ability to change shape just as my sire, Ni’yah,” Laddel said. “It’s been a long-kept Laddel secret. Telek transformed into a wolf to cover the great distances between us. He has spoken to Conlan already.”
She turned to Rhyn. “Did you know?”
“I knew Telek was seeking
to keep the Elesil out of the war, but I didn’t know the particulars,” Rhyn’athel replied, eyeing his brother. “What did you do?”
Telek seemed distracted as he and Laddel were engaged in a private mindspoken conversation. He glanced at the others. “I found a small band of Silren renegades, loyal to Rhyn’athel. They’ve spoken to Conlan already — I suspect Conlan will stay out of this war or if he does enter it, will enter it on our side.”
“Do you think they would let us cross their lands?”
Telek nodded. “I think it likely.”
Lachlei gazed at Rhyn. “Why didn’t you tell me this about the Laddel?”
“He was sworn to secrecy,” Laddel replied before Rhyn could speak. “We guard our secret closely — and now that you know, I would ask that you too keep our secret. It has given the Laddel an advantage over the many years against our enemies.”
“Shapeshifters.” Lachlei shook her head. “My mother never spoke of it.”
“Your mother, Ladara, had the ability,” Laddel said.
“My mother was a shapeshifter?”
“Indeed — quite a good one,” he replied.
“While this is very interesting, it doesn’t change the matter that we should be heading back towards Caer Lochvaren,” Telek said impatiently. “That will be the first place Areyn will bring his troops once he summons the Braesan again. He’ll wait for the Eltar and Silren reinforcements, but that still doesn’t give us much time. ”
“How far will he push us?” Cahal asked.
“As far as he thinks he can,” Rhyn replied. “Areyn doesn’t want to bring Rhyn’athel into this war.”
Lachlei shook her head. “We could use his help about now. Our scouts tell us the passage through the Lochvaren Mountains is almost snowed-in. It’ll be slow going if we take the King’s Highway in our retreat.”
“Then we’ll have to chance the Elesil lands,” Laddel said. “We’ll only be running through a short cut before we enter Haell and Laddel lands.”
“Risky — we might enter a trap if the Elesil decide it is in their best interest to fight alongside the Silren,” Lachlei replied.
“We could send Laddel scouts ahead,” Rhyn suggested. “They should give us advanced warning.”
Lachlei turned to Rhyn. “If we do get caught, can you destroy the Braesan again?”
The commanders fell silent as all eyes turned to Rhyn.
“You’re asking me to challenge Areyn Sehduk again,” he said softly.
Lachlei’s eyes were cold. “Yes.”
“I was successful because I surprised him,” Rhyn replied at last. “Even so, it took more power than I anticipated. What’s more, he’ll be expecting my challenge now.”
Lachlei met his gaze. “Can you do it again, Rhyn?”
Rhyn’athel nodded grimly. “I can.”
CHAPTER Sixty
Imdyr walked from the Lochvaur council’s hall. Laewynd was a fool — greedy and power-hungry — one who was easily twisted to Areyn Sehduk’s purposes. She knew not all the Lochvaur were like him, but as long as there was one or two willing to betray the rest, the Lochvaur were defenseless. She smiled at the irony. A great kindred would be brought to ruin over one man…
“Lachlei!”
Imdyr turned to see Kieran approach. She looked at the warrior, trying to recall the names Laewynd had briefed her on. “Kieran?” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard you had returned,” he said. He stared at her quizzically with his one good eye, as though trying to determine what was different.
Imdyr smiled wanly. Perhaps this was not going to be as easy as she thought. “We need our army,” she said. “We took massive casualties against the Silren and there are rumors that the Elesil may enter the battle.”
“What about Laewynd and the rest of the council?”
“I was in the chambers talking with him,” she said. “I convinced him that we needed the troops. He’ll talk to the others on the Council.”
Kieran stared. “We’ve never been able to get the Council to agree — especially Laewynd.”
“Well, Laewynd was the stumbling block, and now it’s all clear,” she said smoothly.
“That’s good,” Kieran said. He paused. “How bad is the damage? Who’s commanding the army now?”
“Cahal’s in command for the moment,” she said. “We’re retreating toward the plains.”
“What happened to Rhyn?” Kieran asked.
Imdyr hesitated. She did not recall Laewynd mentioning someone named Rhyn. “Rhyn? He’s dead.”
Kieran stared at her. “Are you all right?”
Imdyr began walking. The conversation was not going the way she intended it to. “I’ve been very tired,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll get some rest.”
“No doubt you’ll be seeing Wynne and Haellsil.”
She nodded wordlessly and left.
*****
The Laddel scouts had returned telling Lachlei that the Silren were on the move again. More Silren reinforcements were only a few hours behind them. Exhausted, Lachlei, Rhyn, Telek, Laddel, and the other commanders roused the warriors for a forced march southward towards the Great Plains of Elesilren. As they rode forward, the trees soon became sparse and the mountains diminished into rolling hills. A cold wind blew from the north, making the slow trudge southward more unpleasant.
“We should find more defensible ground,” Rhyn’athel said as he rode beside Ni’yah. “We can’t afford a fight here.”
Ni’yah nodded, glancing over at Lachlei. “She seems aloof,” he said.
“I destroyed the entire Braesan army — including Fialan. Lachlei does not forgive me for that,” Rhyn’athel said, using his power to make certain that none could overhear their conversation.
“Most unfortunate,” Ni’yah remarked.
“In her eyes, I am no better than Areyn.” Rhyn’athel fell silent.
Ni’yah shook his head. “I can’t advise you on this, brother. This is something Lachlei will have to come to terms with herself. Logically, she knows you did what you had to. Emotionally, the rip in the mind-link is too new. Every time she sees Fialan, it becomes a reminder of what she lost.”
Rhyn’athel nodded, pondering the wolf-god’s words. “The others are beginning to suspect who I am.”
“Well, you don’t destroy an enemy’s army in flames without drawing some attention to yourself. Frankly, I’m not surprised.”
“Except Lachlei,” Rhyn’athel remarked. “She of all my warriors should recognize a god’s power, and yet she’s convinced herself that I’m a Guardian or a very talented first-blood.”
Ni’yah chuckled. “Indeed, those whom we are closest to we are often blind to as well. Perhaps deep inside she realizes who you really are, but she is denying it. After all, how can a mortal fall in love with a god?”
Rhyn’athel smiled ruefully. “And how can a god fall in love with a mortal?” He fell silent. “Despite your trickery to coerce me into this world, I must admit I’ve been away from Elren for far too long. I can feel their loyalty, Ni’yah. What’s more, I’m not just their god anymore — I’m one of the Chi’lan. Their loyalty is not to some detached deity, but to me. I’ve experienced what they’ve experienced, and now I’ve earned their respect. By becoming mortal, I’ve become worthy of them.”
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Ni’yah grinned. “Despite the shortcomings, mortality does have its advantages.”
Rhyn’athel chuckled. “But what to do about Areyn?” he said, becoming somber. “The Braesan are a concern.”
“Areyn now has the upper hand,” Ni’yah agreed. “We could create more warriors…”
Rhyn’athel shook his head. “Each warrior I bring forth will take power I need to fight Areyn directly. And each of those warrior’s deaths will feed Areyn. I can destroy the Braesan, but what victory does that give me? Areyn has grown too powerful for me to directly wrest the Braesan from his control. And yet, I must find a way to deprive him of the dead.”
Ni’yah grinned.
Rhyn’athel glanced at the wolf-god. “What are you thinking?”
“That occasionally, my brother, you show flashes of genius, despite yourself.”
Rhyn’athel considered Ni’yah thoughtfully. “What did I say?”
“You must deprive Areyn of his dead.”
Rhyn’athel gave Ni’yah a long, measuring look. “If I remove Areyn’s source of power, I will weaken him.”
“Indeed, and Areyn’s penchant for destroying his own warriors could be his downfall,” Ni’yah replied. “Returning a hundred thousand warriors from the dead takes power — power that Areyn must replenish.”
“And he insists on controlling them, especially Lochvaur.”
“Especially Lochvaur,” the wolf-god agreed. “Your son is draining Areyn’s power. But Areyn dares not free Lochvaur for a moment or risk losing control of a dangerous enemy.”
Rhyn’athel leaned back in his saddle. “Holding back Lochvaur would take vast amounts of energy. That much energy would drain even me. Could Areyn be relying on something else to bring the Braesan to Elren?”
“A Runestone?”
Rhyn’athel thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Areyn wouldn’t use it — it resonates too much with my own power. It might actually burn him to use one.”
“The Gateway, then,” Ni’yah said. “The Gateways are neutral ground.”
Rhyn’athel nodded slowly. “If I were wishing to conserve my power — I would use the Gateways.”
“Rather archaic, don’t you think?” Ni’yah remarked. “And not very defensible.”
“But very much like Areyn,” Rhyn’athel replied. “Areyn uses what he can against me, such as it is.”
“The Gateway would stop travel both ways — if Areyn is indeed using it.”
Rhyn’athel smiled thoughtfully. Perhaps there was a way to defeat Areyn.
CHAPTER Sixty-One
Kieran watched as the woman who called herself Lachlei walked down the path that led from the Council Hall to the Great Hall. Already, the city was steeped in shadows as the sun had dipped behind the mountains. It felt as though it was an ominous portent. Something was wrong.
