CHAPTER Fifty-Seven
“You look awful,” Ni’yah remarked. He looked down at Rhyn’athel, who sat alone beside a fire in the encampment.
Rhyn’athel looked up, his gaze weary. “Thank you. I’ll remember that the next time you take on Areyn Sehduk.” He drank a little hot water from a cup he had let heat in the fire. The air was cold and he shivered, unable to keep warm. The sky was now overcast and it was beginning to flurry. Rhyn’athel could not remember ever feeling this miserable or suffering this much pain.
“Maybe you should shed your mortal body,” Ni’yah suggested, sitting beside him. “Go back to
Athelren
to recuperate…”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Some food will help.”
“It’ll take more than food,” Ni’yah remarked appraisingly. “How much protection did Areyn have around his troops?”
Rhyn’athel shook his head. “Enough.”
Ni’yah noted that he did not meet his gaze. “How much, brother?”
“Areyn was expecting me, or at least had enough defenses so that only I could destroy them,” the warrior god said. “You couldn’t have done it; his shield was carefully constructed — he’s grown in power. It wasn’t as easy as it looked to destroy those defenses to annihilate the
Braesan
.”
The wolf-god sat beside his brother and handed him some bread and cheese with strips of dried meat. “Eat
—
it’ll at least help your body.”
Rhyn’athel took the food and bit into the cheese and bread before trying the meat. It was hard to tear off. “You could’ve brought better food.”
“I thought you wanted the mortal experience.”
Rhyn’athel met his brother’s gaze and chuckled. “That I did.”
“If Areyn’s defenses were that strong, then he knew you were here,” Ni’yah said, returning to the subject.
“Perhaps
—
or perhaps he only suspected and that was a trigger point,” Rhyn’athel replied, biting into the bread. “Whichever, he knows I’m here now. Areyn will take this war to the next level.” He shook his head. “I can’t leave
—
not now. Certainly not with his demons hunting Lachlei.”
“I could protect her,” Ni’yah said.
“Maybe, but I’m not willing to risk it.”
Ni’yah paused. “Speaking of Lachlei, here she comes. We’ll talk later.” With that, he left.
“Rhyn?” Lachlei called. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Rhyn smiled weakly. “Lachlei
—
I’m sorry. I needed some food and rest.”
She considered him. His face was still pale and he looked tired. “Laddel’s scouts inform me that we’re not being pursued,” she said. “How did you know?”
“I am not what I appear.”
Lachlei smiled slightly. “I’ve noticed.” She paused and waited, but Rhyn did not offer an explanation. “Telek and you seemed to be having an interesting conversation, in
Athel’cen
, no less. Are you a Guardian or something else?”
Rhyn hesitated. “It’s difficult to explain.”
“Just like your son?” she asked pointedly.
Rhyn’athel met her accusatory gaze in bewilderment. “My son?”
“You never told me you were married,” Lachlei said.
Rhyn’athel frowned in puzzlement. “I wasn’t.”
She stared at him. “And you had a son? What of his mother?”
“It’s very complex, Lachlei, and I really can’t explain it to you right now…”
“Why not?” she asked. “Is she still alive?”
“You were married,” he pointed out. “You have a son, Haellsil.”
Lachlei met his gaze. “A son isn’t something you hide from a lover…”
“Are we lovers?” Rhyn asked. “I would
like
to be yours…”
“I have never hidden my love for Fialan,” she said. “And now…” Her voice cracked and she fell silent. She turned away, unable to speak. Her mind was filled with a vision of Fialan. It brought back all the sorrow and pain of losing him. Her soul still ached with the loss of the mind-link. She closed her eyes.
“It’s Fialan, isn’t it?” he said.
She turned to him. “He’s alive, Rhyn
—
I don’t know what I was thinking when we almost…”
“Lachlei,” Rhyn said patiently. “Fialan is lost to you
—
just as my son is lost to me. Areyn has given them shells, but their souls are tied to him as surely as if they were in
Tarentor
. They fight for Areyn now, and there is nothing anyone can do to change that.”
“I don’t believe that,” she snapped. “You’re saying that Areyn Sehduk is more powerful than Rhyn’athel? That he can bring back the dead and Rhyn’athel can’t?”
“It’s more complex than that!” Rhyn said, his voice rising.
“Is it?” she replied. “Explain it to me! Tell me why the
Lochvaur
should serve Rhyn’athel instead of Areyn. Tell me why we’re fighting this war when we all go to the demon god in the end. Tell me why your son serves Areyn Sehduk, demon-slayer.”
Rhyn stared speechlessly at her. When he regained his voice, it was in a low, throaty growl. “You would defy the warrior god?”
“I would
—
if Rhyn’athel is truly so weak,” she snapped. “Tell me why Rhyn’athel wasn’t among us today. Why we must face our own people in battle. Why Fialan is dead…”
“Fialan is dead because Areyn Sehduk slew him,” Rhyn said, his tone icy. “Rhyn’athel was with you today, whether you believe it or not. Areyn has ignored the Truce.” He paused, rage glowing in his eyes. “And don’t you dare defy the warrior god again.”
Lachlei found that she could not move. For the first time, she was actually afraid of Rhyn. But, when she spoke, her voice was steady. “Why such loyalty, Rhyn?” she asked softly. “You’ve been betrayed by Rhyn’athel, as I have. Look where we are. Look what we’re fighting.”
“Because Rhyn’athel created you as he created the Nine Worlds. His blood runs through our veins, Lachlei,” Rhyn said.
“Then he needs to take responsibility for what has happened,” she said. She stood up and left.
Rhyn watched her leave. As Lachlei left, she thought she heard him say: “He has, Lachlei. He has.”
*****
Imdyr rode across the windswept plains south towards Caer Lochvaren. Cloaked in invisibility, she rode past the
Chi’lan
and
Laddel
armies as they bivouacked in the cold fields under the graying sky. Imdyr paused and reined her horse. She guessed by the size of the army that they had maybe thirteen thousand. Most of the dead in battle had been
Laddel
, but the
Chi’lan
had taken a substantial loss.
She gazed on the encampment, trying to sense the warrior god. Areyn Sehduk had a right to fear this
Athel’cen
, if Rhyn’athel could sweep aside the death god’s powers like wind through dry leaves. Despite the tremendous power Areyn wielded and her loyalty to the gods of darkness, Imdyr felt drawn towards Rhyn’athel’s power. The strength and resolve was beyond anything she had experienced.
Imdyr hesitated. Entering the camp of her enemy seemed unthinkable, and yet, she hungered for Rhyn’athel’s power.
You’ll regret your decision, dark one.
Even now, the godling’s words taunted her. She had given herself completely to the demon god. Now, there was regret. Areyn was right when he said she was just a tool for him to use. Like any tool, once used and broken, she too would be cast aside. In her lust for power and control, Imdyr found she had none. Areyn had control. She would have nothing. She hated Areyn now. There were no rewards for servitude
—
only death. Even the
Silren
who now served him from fear were slowly being destroyed to sustain Areyn Sehduk’s power. And what use would she be when he was through with her?
Yet, Imdyr had seen hope in Lochvaur’s defiance. Lochvaur had no fear of Areyn, only hatred. Imdyr still might be able to turn from Areyn’s power. Yet, even as she thought this, Imdyr knew she could not. Not now. If she entered the
Lochvaur
camp, Rhyn’athel would learn her secret and destroy her. How could he not? There would be no forgiveness now.
I know what you carry,
Lochvaur had said.
How could the godling see where Areyn could not? If Lochvaur could see, then Rhyn’athel surely could. Imdyr shuddered. She was twice cursed. She dug her heels into the steed and rode past the army towards Caer Lochvaren.
It took Imdyr a few days to reach the city-fortress of the
Lochvaur
. She gazed at the stone walls, keep, and the palisade fence wall that encircled the lower area of the city. The buildings within were wooden, not stone. She doubted that even the great hall or the council chambers were made of anything better than wood.
She paused now and focused on her face and hair. As she concentrated, she held the vision of Lachlei in her mind’s eye. Her hair became red-gold and her eyes became silver. The trappings of her horse shifted to gold and red. Her own armor changed to silver in color and her surcoat was red and gold.
When the transformation was complete, Imdyr knew she looked exactly like the
Lochvaur
queen. Only the most powerful
Eleion
or a god would be able to see through her guise.
She spurred the horse forward and entered through the gates. The guards saluted her as she rode in, but Imdyr ignored them. Riding through the lower gate and upward towards the main gate of the city, she barely glanced at the wooden shops and homes, nor at the people who were preparing for a siege.
Lochvaur
soldiers were everywhere, but again, she paid them no heed nor bothered to salute as she passed. At last, she reached the hall where the
Lochvaur
council sat. She dismounted, thrusting the reins into a guard’s hand and strode in.
The hall was dark, save for the light from the clerestories. It was late afternoon and the sun was already beginning its descent behind the Lochvaren Mountains. As Imdyr walked in, she saw a shadow move among the shadows.
“Lurking in the shadows as always, Laewynd?” she said, her voice dripping with scorn.
“I’m surprised you got through the guard, Imdyr,” Laewynd said as he stepped from the darkness. His silver eyes glowed menacingly. “Even a second-rate
Chi’lan
could see through that disguise.”
The rebuke stung, but Imdyr simply narrowed her gaze. She transformed into her
Eltar
shape. “It won’t be me who will be called a traitor, Laewynd,” she said. “Can you give me Caer Lochvaren?”
“Can you give me the throne?” Laewynd said.
Imdyr smiled. “You could’ve had it months ago if you had challenged Lachlei.”
“If I challenged Lachlei.” He chuckled. “Lachlei is too popular among the people; I am not. I had hoped she would let me handle the affairs of state
—
and for a time, she did…”
“You thought to make her a puppet since you couldn’t bend Fialan to your will. Only she has proven as headstrong as her former husband.” Imdyr smiled. “So, now you wish to depose her and take the
Lochvaur
throne? You have the
Lochvaur
army.”
“They’re not loyal to me
—
they are loyal to her. They would never turn on Lachlei.”
Imdyr smiled coldly and changed back into Lachlei’s form. “Then, let’s give them someone to be loyal to. They want Lachlei
—
we will give them Lachlei.”
CHAPTER Fifty-Eight
“She has a point,” Ni’yah said, as he watched Lachlei leave.
“Whose side are you on?” Rhyn’athel demanded. All around them, the warriors prepared for what little rest they could, oblivious to the fact that two gods spoke in their midst.
“Yours, but sometimes I don’t know why,” the wolf-god said. “Honestly, brother, she’s right you know. You haven’t been interested in this world for two millennia.”
“The Truce…” he began and then fell silent. Even Rhyn’athel was tired of his own excuses.
Why had he abandoned his Eleion all these years?
Ni’yah smiled. “See? It’s different down in the trenches. That’s why I’ve stayed here instead of
Athelren
.”
Rhyn’athel gazed at the wounded and battle-weary
Eleion
. How different it was in
Athelren
with its shining walls, lofty towers, thick forests, and towering mountains. The peace of
Athelren
had dulled him while all this time, Areyn Sehduk had been plotting his revenge. “I have been gone too long.”
“Indeed
—
I saw Lochvaur in battle,” Ni’yah said.
The warrior god scowled. “I did, too,” he admitted. “We had agreed that he should stay in Areyn’s realm…”
“But not to rot,” Ni’yah said.
“It was your idea.”
The wolf-god said nothing.
“Do you deny it?” Rhyn’athel pressed. “I was against it, if I recall.”
Ni’yah frowned. “Yes, it was my idea, and Lochvaur agreed. But it has been too long. Areyn will bring him back to fight against us along with the greatest of the
Chi’lan
. Regardless of the warriors you gather, we can’t defeat one hundred thousand of the very best of your blood.”
“Why didn’t I see this?” Rhyn’athel mused. “The Wyrd showed nothing of this.”
“Areyn is
Athel’cen
—
same as you or I,” Ni’yah shrugged. “The Wyrd doesn’t reveal everything we set into motion.”
“No, but I should’ve seen this
—
how many warriors have we lost?”
“Two thousand or so,” Ni’yah said. “You’d have lost more if you didn’t retreat.”
“I should never have agreed to allow Lochvaur to go to
Tarentor
.”
“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.