Lachlei

by M. H. Bonham

  But, they were not just demon wolves, Lachlei knew. They were Areyn’s Yeth Hounds — supernatural dire wolves that would follow their prey relentlessly.

  Lachlei decided she would take some of them out if they dared enter the shrine. She had not much wood left, so she threw the last on the embers and rekindled the fire. She did not dare to try to put on her boots with the wolves outside.

  Lachlei waited, but the Yeth made no movement. It soon became apparent that they were not going to attack. She looked at the threshold in wonder — the ward glyphs gleamed with their own light. Whatever she had done must have activated the very old magic.

  “This is a shrine to the Athel’cen,” she reminded herself aloud. The magic was good against the demon wolves, but what of the heath-stalkers and arch-demons? And even though it protected her from her enemies, it would not keep her from freezing to death or dying of thirst or starvation.

  The sanctuary was a cell. She had walked into a trap.

  The demons knew she would have to come out soon or die. Either way, Areyn would have her. Lachlei almost despaired now and searched her mind for anything that might help her. She sat down again and ran her fingers along her frozen feet, trying to heal them the best she could with what little energy she had left before sliding her stockings and boots back on. Unless she reached Laddel or Ni’yah soon, she was likely to lose some toes.

  Lachlei pushed those thoughts aside. “I will not die a coward,” she said aloud. If necessary, she would die in battle. But then she would become a Braesan and serve Areyn against her people. Lachlei shook her head. Even a valiant death — one that she did not fear — would feed her enemy, the death god. Her mind returned to Rhyn. She had been angry with him and spoken rashly, but had she truly driven him away? She could not believe he would abandon her to death or worse to his ancient enemy — if he were Rhyn’athel.

  But Lachlei knew little of the warrior god save what she learned from legends and old writings. Most of what she knew focused on his powers and his actions — not his personality. Rhyn had admitted he had taken mortal form for her — could mortality have affected him?

  She did not have the answer and Rhyn would probably deny it, she admitted to herself wryly. “Rhyn,” she whispered. “Rhyn — I was wrong, I’m sorry,” she said. “You’ve proven your point — I can’t do this without you.”

  Silence followed.

  Lachlei drew Fyren. The adamantine blade shimmered blue in the darkness. “Rhyn, I go to die — I don’t expect forgiveness, though I ask for it. If I can’t live through this, at least let me die well.”

  She took a deep breath of the cold air and charged out of the shine, swinging her sword.

  CHAPTER Seventy-Two

  Lachlei charged from the shrine, swinging Fyren. She could see the demon Yeth wolves now — ghost white with red eyes and ears. They had long, saber-like fangs that shone in the darkness. The moment she stepped past the glyph wards, they charged her. Fyren bit deep into the first wolf and she slashed again, cutting deep into the one next to it.

  Lachlei summoned what power she could and focused it against the Yeth. A wave of blue fire issued from Fyren’s blade and rolled over the wolves, throwing them backwards. Lachlei pushed forward, using the blade to clear a path of those Yeth Hounds which had been unaffected by her initial blast.

  But there were too many. Lachlei continued to fight her way through, even when she heard the screams of demons above her. One wolf lunged past her defenses and threw her to the ground. She struggled against it, but its teeth clamped around her throat, slowly suffocating her. She slammed Fyren’s blade into it repeatedly, but it would not let go. Sharp teeth sliced into her sword arm, forcing her to drop Fyren. She tried to cry out in pain, but she could not even do that. She was completely at their mercy and she could do nothing. She fought to stay conscious.

  Suddenly, Lachlei heard a massive fight somewhere ahead. Yeth were snarling and yipping in terror. The wolf that held her fast released her and she gasped for breath. She sat up and grasped Fyren. She stared in shock as she saw she was face-to-face with the largest wolf she had ever seen.

  “Lachlei,” the wolf said sternly, staring at her with its brass eyes. “Get up!”

  “Who are you?” she stammered as she clambered to her feet.

  “A foolish romantic,” the wolf replied. “Climb on my back and we’ll get out of here.”

  Lachlei sheathed her sword and grasped handfuls of his fur with her cold hands. As she touched his fur, she felt warmth run through her. She was dry, and her pain was gone. She stared at her right wrist and saw there was no mark on it.

  “Rhyn?” she stammered as she climbed onto his back.

  “No, Ni’yah,” the wolf replied. He leapt forward, bowling the snarling demons over.

  “You heard me?”

  “Surprisingly, yes,” he replied. “But I’ll admit, I have a soft spot for you.”

  Lachlei buried her face in the warm fur and almost wept as she hung on. “What of Rhyn?”

  “Probably sulking in Athelren — he’ll get over it after a couple hundred years,” Ni’yah remarked.

  “Then, he is…”

  The wolf-god glanced back with an incredulous grin. “Mortals have never failed to amaze me. How you can be so powerful, and yet so blind to the truth?”

  “You’re insulting me?”

  “Well, it’s not every day a god gets a captive audience,” Ni’yah chuckled as he padded through the forest. “Unless you’d like me to hand you over to the Yeth again.”

  Lachlei stared for a moment at the wolf-god and then began to chuckle. “The stories don’t do you justice, Ni’yah,” she said. “I had no idea you had such a sense of humor…”

  “It balances Rhyn’athel’s lack of humor,” he replied. “Anyway, you know that I’ve been called a meddler and a trickster. Certainly, humor would be a part of it.”

  Lachlei smiled and held on as the wolf continued to lope through the forest. Despite the cold, she felt comfortable on the wolf-god’s back — no doubt due to the god’s magic that had also healed her. She looked up and saw that the sky was lightening between the treetops. It would soon be dawn.

  Mile after mile, the wolf-god loped effortlessly. The sun soon shone over the horizon, peering through the trees, and still they continued. At last, Ni’yah slowed down as they approached a meadow.

  “Why are we stopping?” Lachlei looked back apprehensively.

  “We’re safe — Areyn’s demons won’t attack you while I’m here,” he said. “We’re almost to Darkling Plain, and you and I need to talk.”

  Lachlei hesitated. What would the god say to her?

  “Are you hungry?” the wolf looked up at her.

  “Famished.”

  “Then I suggest you check your horse’s packs — if I recall, you had a few days worth of provisions.”

  Lachlei looked up and saw her warhorse standing in the meadow, pawing the snow to graze on the grass beneath it. She slid off Ni’yah’s back and stared at it. “Where did you find him?” she asked and turned to Ni’yah. To her surprise, he was no longer a wolf, but in Eleion form. “Telek — there was such a familial resemblance,” she said shaking her head.

  “Being Wyrd-born does that to you,” Ni’yah remarked. “But, I’m surprised you noticed the resemblance between Rhyn’athel and me. Most are thrown off by my gold eyes and silver hair.”

  “I knew you and Rhyn were related the moment I saw you. I just couldn’t see how,” she admitted. She walked over to her horse, pulled out one of the rations, and stared at it quizzically.

  “I took the liberty of improving the food,” Ni’yah said. “Rhyn’athel is great at creating and swordsmanship, but he’s a lousy cook. Toss me a ration — there should be one for me as well.”

  Lachlei laughed and then shook her head as she handed Ni’yah the packet. She pulled out the bread, leaned against her horse and began to eat.

  “What’s so funny?” Ni’yah asked, seeing her expre
ssion.

  “A few hours ago I was nearly dead, frostbitten, covered in demon blood, and ready to die in battle. Now I’m having breakfast with one of the most powerful gods in the Nine Worlds.”

  “The Wyrd spins strange patterns.”

  “You heard my prayer. How?”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice,” he said wryly. “You’re really quite a powerful first-blood when you focus your magic. I was surprised you decided to stay in Fialan’s shadow as long as you did.”

  Lachlei winced, but held her temper. “I loved Fialan.”

  “Nobody, least of all Rhyn, would dispute that claim. But you ask something that is beyond even his power to grant.”

  “I know,” she muttered, “and I behaved like a fool. It’s just that I wasn’t prepared to fall in love so soon.” She pulled her flask from the saddle and took a swig. Honey-sweet spiced wine filled her mouth. She swallowed it. “Metheglyn?” she remarked. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  “No, that’s for me,” Ni’yah said. “Rhyn’athel would have my hide if I touched you. He really does love you.”

  “I know,” she said wistfully. She fell silent and ate the meat in the ration.

  “Do you love him?” He paused. “As Rhyn, I mean. Not as a god.”

  Lachlei thought back. Rhyn had been closer to her than anyone, save perhaps Fialan. He had seen her at her worst and best times and still loved her. And yet, she had tried to distance herself from him as their relationship had taken a new tenor. Why?

  She knew the answer even before she asked the question. Fear. The damage the torn mind-link had done seemed irreparable. Seeing Fialan again had simply opened the wound. And yet… Lachlei closed her eyes. Even now, she missed Rhyn terribly. She had never thought she could feel this way about another man, but Rhyn’s leaving left an emptiness within her. Lachlei wished she had not banished him. Rhyn had loved her deeply — perhaps more deeply than even Fialan had loved her — and now, Lachlei admitted she loved him.

  She turned to see Ni’yah chewing on his bread with a wry smile.

  “You already knew,” she accused him. “You know I love him.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t know, did you?” Ni’yah remarked. “Not until I asked.” He paused. “Hand me that flask of metheglyn.”

  Lachlei held the flask in her hand for a moment and then eyed the wolf-god. “You’re going to talk with him, aren’t you?” She asked as she handed it to him.

  Ni’yah uncorked the flask and took a swig. “You’ve made a bit of a mess of things for me,” he admitted. “Rhyn’athel is rather displeased at me anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m a meddler,” Ni’yah grinned. “How do you think he found out about you?”

  “You?”

  “If anyone is to blame for this, it’s me,” he said, taking another swig. “You were the bait to get Rhyn’athel interested in Elren again.”

  “You used me?” Lachlei stared.

  “I saw Fialan die,” Ni’yah said. “I knew it was Areyn, but I couldn’t convince Rhyn’athel. So, I suggested that he see the damage done firsthand…”

  “The night of Fialan’s pyre,” Lachlei said. “I can’t believe this — you brought him when I asked Rhyn’athel for vengeance?”

  “He told you, did he?”

  “You knew he’d fall in love with me.”

  “Oh yes, I did.” Ni’yah grinned and caught her fist in mid punch. “That’s no way to treat the god who rescued you from Areyn’s demons.” He chuckled and shook his head as she lowered her arm. “Lochvaur. You all have Rhyn’athel’s temperament, you know.”

  “You deserve a good beating,” she remarked, crossing her arms.

  “Why do you think I’m not in Athelren?” he said slyly.

  Lachlei laughed, despite herself. She then met his gaze. “You’ll talk to him, won’t you?”

  Ni’yah considered her carefully. “I might.”

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  A wolfish gleam entered Ni’yah’s eyes and he smiled. “I’ll have what I want,” he replied. “Don’t worry; Rhyn’athel will be responsible for this debt, not you.”

  “Why doesn’t that put me at ease?”

  “Because I’m a troublemaker,” Ni’yah said. “Now go. Your army needs you, and I must talk to Rhyn’athel. Don’t worry; you’ll be under my protection until you reach them.”

  Lachlei nodded and finished her ration. She hesitated and met Ni’yah’s gaze. “I think I owe you something anyway,” she said. She walked over and kissed him. “Thank you.”

  Ni’yah grinned. “You tempt me sorely,” he said, shaking his head. “But Rhyn’athel would truly skin me alive.” He disappeared, leaving Lachlei to mount her horse.

  CHAPTER Seventy-Three

  Lachlei rode southward along the road through the forest. After an hour, the trees thinned and rolling hills of grassland replaced coniferous forest. She hesitated and scanned the area, using the Sight. She could feel the demons pursuing her, and yet, she could feel another power holding them at bay.

  “Ni’yah,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

  If the god heard her, he made no reply. Lachlei could sense her army five miles ahead even though she could not see them. The rolling hills of the Darkling Plain made it impossible for her to see beyond a mile, but she knew Cahal and Laddel were leading them in a retreat. A small demon contingent was harassing them; pushing them southward towards a larger army of Braesan. Lachlei knew they would not last.

  “What have we here?” came a voice.

  Lachlei turned and saw two Redel warriors, their arrows aimed directly at her.

  “Put your hands up, pretty one,” said the Redel who had spoken. He was a tall Eleion with a gold mane and gold eyes. Like all Redel warriors she had seen, he was well over six feet in height with a thin, muscular build. The bow he used was light — not like the heavier longbows that the Lochvaur, Laddel, and Haell used. Still, at this range, it could probably pierce her armor. His partner was a slightly older Redel with silver streaks through his gold hair. He had an unpleasant glimmer in his eyes as he considered Lachlei.

  “By Rhyn’athel’s mane, I don’t have time for this!” Lachlei snarled. She raised her hands to give her a few moments to think about what she should do. She had been so focused on returning to the Lochvaur that she had not bothered to scan the area for other Eleion. “This is Lochvaur land.”

  “Redel land,” the first replied. “You and your army have entered Redel claims. We intend to take our land back.”

  Lachlei stared at him. “Redkellan brought his army?” she asked.

  “Ten thousand strong. We intend to defend our right to the plain.”

  Lachlei could not believe her fortune. Ten thousand. Fialan had been friends with Redkellan. She used the Sight and found that the Redel were only a mile away. If she could speak with the Redel king… “Lead me to Redkellan,” she said.

  “After we have a little bit of fun,” said the second Redel with a smirk. “Get off your horse.”

  “Now!” the first one ordered, aiming his arrow at her chest.

  Lachlei considered them. Even if they had not left their thoughts unguarded, Lachlei knew what they were planning. The Redel soldiers were exclusively men and had none of the Chi’lan discipline. They often used war as a reason for raping and looting. They thought she was an interesting prize and they would have some fun before perhaps turning her over to Redkellan.

  Perhaps if she had been a noncombatant, Lachlei would have been horrified. But, she had seen far worse and was annoyed. She began to dismount, sliding her hand to Fyren’s pommel as she turned her back to them.

  “Careful!” demanded the first.

  Lachlei leapt off, drawing Fyren in mid-leap and swinging the blade. It sliced through the first Redel’s bow, and whirling around Lachlei slammed the blade into the second. The second Redel shot, but the arrow went wide. It slammed into her armor and buried itself into her shoulder.
r />   Lachlei yelled in pain and rage, cutting into the Redel. The soldier staggered back as Fyren bit deep into his chest. She felt the death rattle and pulled the blade from the man as he collapsed. She turned on the first Redel, who stared at her in fear.

  “By Sowelu,” the man gasped. “What are you?”

  Lachlei slammed Fyren point first into the ground. Focusing on the arrow, she grasped the shaft and pulled it out, healing herself as she did. She snapped the arrow and threw it before the astonished Redel soldier. “I am Chi’lan and you will take me to Redkellan. Now!”

  She pulled Fyren from the ground, wiped the blade, and sheathed it. The soldier watched, but made no move. She turned to him. “What is your name?”

  “Redsil,” the Redel replied. He glanced at his dead companion. “We can’t leave him.”

  “Then, pick him up,” Lachlei replied impatiently as she mounted her horse. “You do have a horse around here, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said and hesitated.

  “Get your horse and sling the body over it. If you’re worried about the blood price, I’ll pay it,” she snapped. She glanced into the sky. She could not be sure how long Ni’yah’s shield would last. “We have to go now!”

  Redsil slung his comrade over his shoulder and trudged towards a thicket. She rode beside him to be certain he did not try to flee or trick her. Two horses were tied to an oak tree. Redsil slung his dead companion over one of the horses and took the reins and tied it to the saddle horn of the other horse. He mounted his horse and glared at her. “I should kill you…”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been killing arch-demons and Yeth Hounds; your sword is no threat. You try to kill me and I’ll see to it your head is on a pike,” Lachlei replied. “Lead me to Redkellan now.”

  Redsil rode forward. Lachlei followed, scanning the skies for the demons. Ten thousand Redel were not enough to destroy the demon army, but they would buy her own Lochvaur and Laddel time.

  A lone howl echoed across the prairie. Lachlei’s horse became antsy and tossed its head in fear. Redsil reined his horse and looked back at Lachlei. “I’ve never heard wolves in daylight.”