by M. H. Bonham
Lachlei closed her eyes and shook her head. “Your son — Lochvaur. That was Lochvaur?”
Rhyn’athel nodded. “I told you it was hard to explain, but yes, the man who rode next to Fialan was none other than Lochvaur.”
Lachlei felt sheepish. She opened her eyes to see Rhyn’athel grinning at her. “What’s so funny?”
“You are,” he said. “You drove me away and yet were jealous over a nonexistent lover.” Lachlei tried to look angry, but Rhyn’athel pulled her closer and kissed her. “I couldn’t quite explain to you Lochvaur’s existence — it was far too complicated.”
“I see,” Lachlei said and fell silent. “Did you love her?”
Rhyn’athel glanced at Lachlei in puzzlement. “Love whom?”
“Lochvaur’s mother.”
Rhyn’athel chuckled. “Lochvaur had no mother. Lochvaur was a product of my power, Lachlei, just as the Eleion and Ansgar are, only more so.” He shook his head. “Lochvaur is difficult to explain, but he is my son.”
“But he serves Areyn.”
“Not willfully. He is Eleion, which makes him mortal, thus, when Areyn took the dead, he also took Lochvaur. I didn’t want it that way, but Lochvaur and Ni’yah talked me into it.”
“I don’t understand.”
Rhyn’athel kissed her. “Now is not the time for the full explanation. Just accept that because he is mortal, he fell under Areyn’s domain.”
“As do all mortals.” Lachlei shivered again. “I don’t want to serve Areyn,” she whispered, tracing the lines of Rhyn’athel’s face. “I couldn’t bear to part from you again.”
“You won’t,” Rhyn’athel said. “I swear on my sword, Teiwaz, I will never let that happen.”
Lachlei kissed him, relishing in his response to her touch. His lips slid from her lips to her neck and down to her breasts. “Shouldn’t we return to the army?” she asked. She pulled away to see disappointment in his eyes.
Rhyn’athel smiled. “Another hour will give them more rest,” he said, pulling her close again. “I’ve waited a long time for this, Lachlei. A very long time…”
CHAPTER Seventy-Eight
Rhyn’athel rode back to the army with Lachlei riding beside him. Gone were the mortal trappings now as he rode his white steed into camp. His fiery eyes were glazed with light, and his adamantine armor shone brilliantly in the darkness. The long, red-gold mane flowed behind him like a banner. The Lochvaur and Laddel warriors paused and stared as the god rode past. Tamar grinned as he saw the god ride past with Lachlei. “Rhyn’athel! Rhyn’athel!” he called out.
Others took up the cry, and soon the entire camp was chanting the warrior god’s name. Lachlei glanced at Rhyn’athel. “I believe you’re enjoying this,” she remarked dryly.
Rhyn’athel grinned back. “I should’ve never agreed to the Truce, beloved,” he said. “These are my people, and this is my world. Ni’yah was right — I’ve been gone far too long from the Eleion.”
Ni’yah turned and saw his brother ride forward amid the cheering warriors. He had been speaking with his son, Laddel, when the warrior god rode up. “You took your time,” he grumbled.
Rhyn’athel grinned and dismounted. “It was your idea, brother,” he said, glancing at Lachlei as she dismounted and stood beside him.
Ni’yah laughed. “Indeed it was,” he said knowingly.
“How many warriors do we have ready to fight?” Lachlei asked, distracting them.
Ni’yah glanced at Laddel. “Sixty thousand warriors, total — completely healed and rested,” the Laddel king replied. “Ten thousand noncombatants, of which we’re able to arm two thousand.”
“But they are not skilled,” Cahal said, striding up. He paused as he met Rhyn’athel’s gaze. “My lord, I am your humble servant,” he said, bowing his head.
“Cahal — no,” Rhyn’athel said, gripping the commander’s arm. “You are my friend, not my servant. Those who fight for me, who serve me as Chi’lan, are my warriors and my friends, not my slaves. I am proud to count you as a friend.” He turned and met Cara’s gaze. The daughter of Silvain stood among the warriors silently. “And you, Cara of the Silren, you wish to ask something of me?”
Cara hesitated, her ice-blue eyes betraying her fear. “My lord, I…” She felt Cahal’s grip on her shoulder and steeled herself. “Conlan is dead.”
Rhyn’athel nodded. “I know; he served me well. There will be changes err the battle is over, Chi’lan.”
“Chi’lan?” she whispered in puzzlement, and then smiled as she caught his knowing look. “I am Chi’lan…”
“As are you all.”
“Very well, Chi’lan Rhyn’athel, what shall we do?” Cahal asked. “Areyn Sehduk has us hopelessly outnumbered with creatures that can’t die. We can’t kill what is already dead — and many are our own fallen comrades.”
“Areyn may bring the Jotunn here as well,” Ni’yah remarked. “If he brings those into this world, we can assume that the war will spread to other worlds.”
“It’s a risk I’ll have to take,” said Rhyn’athel. He raised his arms and drew a glowing diagram of a battlefield in the air. “Areyn, for all his bluster, is a poor tactician. He holds such contempt for life that he’s willing to sacrifice troops for the most casualties. He uses his warriors foolishly, depending on sheer numbers rather than their skill. We can use that to our advantage…”
“But if his warriors can’t die, he has a good reason to rely on overwhelming numbers,” Laddel said.
“Indeed, but he expects the gate to his world will stay open,” said Rhyn’athel, grinning at Ni’yah. “He will have a nasty surprise when he finds the gate shut and guarded.”
“Many of the warriors were our own Chi’lan,” Lachlei said.
Rhyn’athel nodded. “And the Silren and the Eltar fight for Areyn out of fear. Trust me on this, beloved. We will defeat him here and now on Darkling Plain.”
Lachlei smiled. “Very well, continue.”
“We keep our lines mobile and high on these ridges,” Rhyn’athel continued, pointing to the blue drawings. “Longbow men, here, will be our primary weapon to take out the charge. If any get through, we’ll have to handle them hand-to-hand.”
“What of the noncombatants?” Cahal asked.
“We’ll have to have someone lead them away from the fighting. The two thousand armed noncombatants will have to be their protection.” He paused. “With such small numbers, I can’t afford to lose any more Chi’lan.”
“What if Areyn tries to outflank us?” Lachlei asked.
Ni’yah grinned. “They’ll have a nasty surprise.” With that, he vanished.
*****
Ni’yah stood on a pass within the Neversummer Mountains. Not far from the ice dragon caves lay the great glaciers that moved slowly towards the sea. The jumbled seracs stood like giant towers, but Ni’yah knew they were constantly shifting. The seracs slowly tumbled down the frozen mountains towards the ocean, moving just a few feet per day. They stood iridescent blue and green, like oddly colored sentinels, guardians to a world beyond.
For indeed, they were. Before Ni’yah stood a great gate; two upright posts and a bar that lay across the top. It was covered with frost and ice from thousands of years of cold and blowing snow, so much so that it appeared to be hewn from the ice, itself. But Ni’yah knew what lay beneath was adamantine, riddled with Runes. A gateway into Areyn’s worlds.
The wolf-god stood at the gateway and focused on it. The power within the gateway flashed, and a wall of ice-blue flame filled its portal. From one of the seracs, a creature rose from the ice. A fifty-foot long crystal dragon with translucent blue and green scales now stood at the gateway. Ni’yah grinned at his handiwork. “They’ll be no returning from the dead from this gateway, Areyn,” he said.
CHAPTER Seventy-Nine
The stars had begun to move again in their journey across the sky. It would be only a few hours before Areyn’s troops attacked. Lachlei rode her stallion where the noncomba
tants were making final preparations for a retreat. Carts and wagons, pulled by oxen, old horses, mules, and burros lumbered slowly westward through the pass in the ridge.
“Wynne! Wynne!” Lachlei called as she rode beside each wagon. Each driver shook his heads as she passed, calling. A tightness filled her throat as she searched for the wagon or cart that carried her son, Haellsil. Wagon upon wagon clattered by, each with no sign of her son or Wynne. Could they have gotten lost in the fighting? Could Areyn have killed her son? The fear turned to panic, and she rode frantically beside each wagon calling Wynne’s name.
“My lady!” came a voice.
Lachlei reined her warhorse abruptly. She turned to see a golden haired Eleion with gold eyes astride a white charger. His cloak flowed behind him, glowing brilliantly, and his armor was fiery gold. Even from this distance, Lachlei could feel heat radiate from him. She stared at the man speechlessly.
“My lady,” he said again as he rode towards her. “Your son, Haellsil, and his caretaker are safe. They’re in one of the first wagons making their way over the pass. I can get them if you’d like.”
Lachlei found that she had caught her breath while gazing at the god — for god, he had to be. “No, that’s all right,” she said when she found her voice. “I didn’t know Rhyn would take care of this.”
The god smiled; the warmth seemed to wash over her. “I’m afraid this is Ni’yah’s doing. He has called in some favors at the last minute, it appears.” He shrugged.
“Thank you,” she whispered and turned her horse around to ride back down. A massive wolf appeared beside her. and her warhorse shied as she reined the beast.
“Can you give me prior warning before you do that?” she snapped.
The wolf-god shrugged. “Rhyn’athel sent me to find you,” he said. “Areyn’s army is nearly at the bluffs.”
“Rhyn didn’t tell me he would have a god watching over the noncombatants,” she said.
“You didn’t ask,” Ni’yah remarked. “But you have nothing to worry about — Sowelu will care for them.”
Lachlei glanced behind at the brilliant rider. “Sowelu? The sun god?” she asked.
“He doesn’t have much to do at night.” The wolf wagged his head in laughter. It looked almost comical, if he had not been a god. “Sowelu can’t stand up to Areyn Sehduk directly, but he’s powerful enough to protect them until either I or Rhyn’athel arrive.”
Lachlei stared at the wolf-god. “What does a god do to make another god indebted to him?”
Ni’yah grinned evilly, and a mischievous gleam crept into the god’s yellow eyes. “Sowelu told you about that, did he?”
Lachlei chuckled at the wolf-god’s expression. “I don’t want to know what you’ll hold Rhyn’athel to for this,” she said. “Or what the Lochvaur will owe you.”
Ni’yah teeth gleamed. “You’re my great-granddaughter and half Laddel, even if you carry the Lochvaur traits. Both you and the Lochvaur have already given me what I want,” he said.
“And that is?”
Ni’yah grinned and vanished as they approached Rhyn’athel, astride his charger giving last minute orders to Cahal. Lachlei stared at the place where Ni’yah vanished before riding beside the warrior god.
Rhyn’athel turned to her. “The archers are ready with fifty arrows a piece,” he said. “Five thousand longbow men. They may not hit their mark every time, but they should decimate Areyn’s ranks enough…” He paused. “What’s wrong?”
“Ni’yah…” she began.
Rhyn’athel laughed. “So, he’s been talking about debts, has he?”
“He says the Lochvaur and I have already paid his debt — how?”
“That rogue,” he chuckled. “I guess in a way, you have.”
“How?”
“Gods gain power in many ways, Lachlei,” Rhyn’athel said. “Ni’yah has ensured the Laddel’s survival and their placement within the kindreds.”
“Through me?”
“Through you — and through your sons.”
She hesitated. “My sons?”
“My sons,” he said, smiling.
“How would you…” she began and then fell silent. Of course, he would know — he was a god, she reminded herself. Her mind was thrown into a whirl of confusion and mixed emotions. Was she pregnant? She would not know for a month, but she did not doubt his word. Did he only intend to be with her through the battle or long enough to ensure her carrying his sons to term? What did this mean?
It means that I love you very much, he said in response to her unspoken questions. He held her gaze. I will never leave you, beloved.
*****
Areyn Sehduk reined his demon steed and gazed at the bluffs. No longer did the guise matter — the Silren and Eltar were his to command now. Their lives, their souls, their very life force was his, and he relished them. They shrank from him in terror as he rode among them, but they were unable to resist his power. Even Silvain, the son of the goddess Elisila, could do nothing to resist him.
Imdyr rode beside him, astride her own demon mount. Her dark eyes were languid as her powers touched the Wyrd and beyond. Areyn considered her thoughtfully. She was looking less gaunt and more Eleion now. She had been eating, perhaps to keep her strength up because the magic she used required so much energy. And yet, perhaps there was something more…
Fialan rode beside him as well. The Lochvaur’s baleful gaze was constantly on Areyn now. He did nothing to disguise his hatred and contempt for the death god. Forced to serve Areyn, the Lochvaur king despised him. If the former Lochvaur champion could, he would try to destroy the death god. Areyn smiled at the man’s foolishness.
“Rhyn’athel is here,” Imdyr said aloud, snapping Areyn from his thoughts. The Eltar sorceress’s eyes were still unfocused. “He has brought the wolf-god with him.”
“Rhyn’athel,” Areyn Sehduk repeated, and felt the chill of fear creep into him. His old adversary was powerful. And yet, Rhyn’athel had not fought him until now — now that Areyn was powerful and filled with the blood and life force of so many who had died. He turned to see Lochvaur grinning. Areyn slammed his mace into the Lochvaur, sending him sprawling from his horse. “It is little matter, worm,” he growled. “Rhyn’athel can’t save you — you are mine.”
“Perhaps,” said Lochvaur, wiping the blood from his face. The baleful stare was back. “But it will be a pleasure to see you spitted on his sword, writhing in agony.”
“Go from my sight, worm!”
The smirk returned. “As you wish, my master,” Lochvaur said scornfully. He mounted his stallion and rode forward.
Imdyr gazed at the dead Chi’lan warrior as he rode off, and then she turned to Areyn. “That one will betray you.”
Areyn Sehduk laughed. “He can do naught,” he said. “But Rhyn’athel can. What other gods are with Rhyn’athel?”
Imdyr shook her head. “None save the wolf.”
“None?” Areyn smiled as he gazed at the bluffs ahead. “How many troops?”
“Sixty thousand,” she replied.
Areyn grinned. It would be a slaughter.
CHAPTER Eighty
Rhyn’athel’s gaze suddenly became unfocused. There it was again — something elusive and yet steady. He could sense it probing his army, looking for tactical advantage anywhere it could find it. It was indefinable, shifting and changing with each shield he reinforced. His frustration built as the magic discovered apparent chinks in his impenetrable defenses.
Lachlei glanced at him. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.
Rhyn’athel turned to her, anger on his face. “There’s something out there that can sense through my defenses,” he said. “It’s almost as if…” He paused and shook his head. “It’s almost as if I’m fighting a Wyrd-blood.” He gazed on Lachlei thoughtfully.
“A Wyrd-blood? You mean a god?”
Rhyn’athel smiled as realization crept into his eyes. “Of course,” he murmured. “The Wyrd-blood will hide from me, but not fr
om you.” He paused. “Lachlei, I must use you to find the Wyrd-blood who is working for Areyn Sehduk.”
“What must I do?” Lachlei asked.
“Let me into your mind,” he said.
Lachlei nodded and at once felt Rhyn’athel’s presence inside her thoughts. She nearly became overwhelmed with his presence. He had not needed permission to enter her mind, as he swept aside her barriers as casually as she might bat away an insect. Lachlei found herself blending into the god’s mind — it was terrifying, and yet exhilarating. It was as though he had mind-linked with her, but, it was more than a simple mind-link.
Lachlei/Rhyn’athel began to search for the elusive Wyrd-blood. Lachlei could sense it probing her mind around the edges. She fought to shield herself, but felt Rhyn’athel’s power gently hold her firm.
Let it sense you, the warrior god spoke.
What did Rhyn intend to do?
Suddenly, Lachlei felt a flash of power — like a wave surge crash around them. She shivered as she saw Rhyn’athel bare his teeth and his eyes snap into focus.
I have you now…
*****
Imdyr screamed and grasped her temples. She fell from the demon steed and thrashed in terrible pain. “No! No! No!” she cried. “Stop him! Stop him!”
Areyn watched implacably as she writhed before him. Several Eltar leapt to her aid, trying to hold her as she shook uncontrollably. Then, Imdyr became still. “Bring her to me,” Areyn said.
The Eltar dragged Imdyr before him. She was sobbing hysterically. “He found me!” She gurgled as she met Areyn’s gaze with her own wild eyes.
“Who found you?” Areyn asked.
Suddenly, Imdyr became rigid. A light that was not there before shone in her eyes. She opened her mouth, but her voice was not her own. “So, Areyn, you’ve given up your disguises,” she said.
Areyn quavered and then steeled his gaze. “Rhyn’athel.”
Imdyr smiled sardonically. “I didn’t think any of the Wyrd-blood survived our last encounter. Using a child to find me — I thought you were more powerful than that.”
