Lachlei (10 page)

CHAPTER Twenty

“The
Silren
have attacked North Marches,” Lachlei said, flinging open the doors to the High Council. It was morning when she strode in, dressed as a
Chi’lan
, her mail ringing with each step. Lachlei noted, much to her anger, that not one of the Council had risen in her presence. Laewynd gazed at her, his silver eyes unperturbed.

“We know, Lachlei,” he said. “Some of us on the Council
do
have the Sight.”

Lachlei flushed at the rebuke. “Then you know that they put every man, woman, and child to the sword?”

The council members glanced at each other, but said nothing.

“We were discussing what action we should take.”

“Discussing? Discussing!” Lachlei stared at Laewynd. “Are you joking? We’ve been attacked.”

“North Marches has been attacked,” Laewynd said. “Not Caer Lochvaren.”

“
Lochvaren
has been attacked,” Lachlei corrected him. “And North Marches is as much a part of Lochvaren as Caer Lochvaren.”

“The land has been under dispute for some time,” said Moira. “Fialan’s father, Lochalan, negotiated these lands from Silvain.”

Lachlei stared at Moira and then at the others. “The demon who killed Fialan leads their army. We are not safe
—
he will march to Caer Lochvaren…”

Laewynd raised his hand. “We don’t know that, Lachlei
—
we can only speculate.”

She stared. “You would stand by idly and do nothing?”

Laewynd shook his head. “I wouldn’t act in such haste.”

“But haste is what we need!” She paused and met his gaze. “I’ll take the army to North Marches.”

The council members glanced at each other. “That may not be wise,” said Laewynd at last.

“Why?”

“Our intelligence indicates that the
Elesil
may be massing an army to attack us.”

Of course.
Lachlei frowned. The
Elesil
were related to the
Silren
and held treaties with them. “But the
Silren
and the
Elesil
may join together to siege Caer Lochvaren
—
certainly we should stop the
Silren
before they get too far south.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I will lead an army to North Marches…”

“No.”

“No?” She stared at them aghast.

“You’re not queen yet, Lachlei,” Laewynd said. “Despite our vote, you won’t be queen until the coronation tonight
—
assuming there is no challenger.”

“A technicality.”

“A reality,” said Laewynd. “Don’t give us cause to reconsider.”

“You wouldn’t dare. You can’t change your vote once the Council has decided.”

“Can’t I?” Laewynd smiled. “Perhaps I can’t change the vote according to
Chi’lan
law, but there are other ways to stop you from taking the throne.”

Lachlei met his gaze. She knew those ways. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Laewynd leaned back and smiled. “A word to one of the more ambitious
Chi’lan
might result in a challenger. And the last time I checked,
Chi’lan
Lachlei, you haven’t seen a battle in three years.”

“You’d challenge after you voted me as queen?”

“Not I,” Laewynd said. “I have no taste for the throne. But there are some who do. Now, forget about North Marches, Lachlei. The
Lochvaur
have other pressing issues.”

“You would’ve never denied Fialan the army.”

“Fialan would’ve weighed the decision more carefully,” Laewynd replied. “You are new at this.”

Lachlei now understood. The platitudes they had spoken before had been to appease her. They had chosen her precisely because she hadn’t wanted the position, and yet, none would argue with it. The High Council had hoped to take advantage of her. They would’ve never dared with Fialan in power.

“Very well,” Lachlei said. She turned and left before any could reply.

*****

Lachlei entered the bailey and looked around. Rhyn hadn’t been in the great hall when she had woken, nor had he been to the High Council.

Fools!
she thought. They didn’t sense what she and Rhyn sensed. Perhaps if Rhyn would speak to the High Council, they would understand the urgency. She looked up and saw Rhyn looking down on her. She climbed the tower stairs that led to the wall walk. As she approached Rhyn, she saw that he was lost in thought.

“Rhyn!” she called.

The North Marches
Chi’lan
turned to her, a concerned look on his face. “You’ve been to the High Council.”

Lachlei nodded. “They won’t give me the troops to meet the
Silren
at North Marches.”

“What does that leave you with?”

“My own
Chi’lan
—
two thousand total,” Lachlei said. “It’s not enough.”

Rhyn frowned. “No, it’s not,” he agreed. He knew that the
Laddel
were Ni’yah’s to command, but how many would remain to be seen. Laddel, Ni’yah’s son, would be obliged to his father, but even Laddel would have his limits. Without the full force of the
Lochvaur
, the
Laddel
would not be willing to give their entire army to stop Areyn. It would be too late by the time the
Lochvaur
entered the fight. “What if the
Silren
obtain the
Elesil’s
aid?”

Lachlei shook her head. “The
Elesil
are traditionally allied with the
Silren
. If they enter the fray, we’ll be overwhelmed without aid from our allies. But the
Laddel
are some distance away and the
Haell
allegiance is tenuous at best.”

Then, let us hope Ni’yah does his work,
Rhyn’athel thought darkly.
If I have to intervene, this could escalate…

Lachlei studied Rhyn’s face curiously. “What of the
Lochvaur
surrounding North Marches?”

Rhyn hesitated. “There are maybe a few thousand. Of those, a few hundred warriors.”

“That’s a few hundred we don’t have now.” She fell silent, her face pensive.

 “Something is wrong.”

Lachlei shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s something,” Rhyn paused. He brushed her thoughts and frowned. “Laewynd threatened your crown?”

“It’s nothing,” Lachlei said.

“No,” he replied, feeling his anger rise. “Laewynd threatened you with a challenger, didn’t he?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes.”

Rhyn frowned. His link with the Web of Wyrd was tenuous in his new form. Even so, he could see that it was changing because of his very presence. “I don’t know what’s exactly ahead,” he said. “But I can promise you none of your
Chi’lan
will challenge you. Nor will I.”

“That is some comfort, I suppose.” Lachlei’s smile was forced. “What will you do now that you have no home to return to?”

 “The land is burnt, the people dead, and there is nothing for me. I must seek the demon that killed them.”

“Then, our paths still cross,” she murmured. “I was hoping that perhaps you would consider joining my
Chi’lan
,” she said. “We need warriors, Rhyn.” She met his gaze. “
I
need warriors. You’re first-blood, and that’s a rare commodity nowadays.”

Rhyn stared for a long moment, amazed at his luck. “I would be honored,” he said.

“Then, stand beside me tonight at coronation,” she said. “If I fail, I would have you challenge the victor. I don’t know who Laewynd may put up to challenge me, but he will be nothing more than a puppet.”

Rhyn shook his head. “No, Lachlei, you won’t fail.”

“Laewynd reminded me that I haven’t seen battle in years
—
against a battle-hardened warrior, I may fall. You are the only
Chi’lan
I’ve seen who is worthy enough for the throne.”

“I can’t accept.”

She took his hands and once again, Rhyn felt the charge run through him. “Please, Rhyn, I know you’re a first-blood and I know you have a Sword of Power. Cahal told me how you’ve defeated Tamar.”

Rhyn looked into her eyes and felt his resolve slip away.
How could a woman weaken the determination of the most powerful god in the Nine Worlds?
“I accept, Lachlei,” he heard himself say. “But you will not fail.”

*****

Imdyr rode her black horse towards the
Silren
encampment. It was late afternoon and the sun was already sinking behind the Lochvaren Mountains. Before her lay the tents and watch fires of the
Silren
army, nestled deep within the forest surrounding the King’s Highway.

Her horse’s hooves made no noise, and Imdyr traveled like a shadow in the oncoming darkness. Imdyr’s dark hair and black cloak flowed behind her. She was now dressed in dark adamantine mail and a short sword hung at her side.

The
Silren
guards did not see Imdyr as she rode by, cloaked in her own powers of invisibility. Even with Areyn’s shields, Imdyr could sense the death god nearby; his power seemed to draw her in. Imdyr dismounted and entered Areyn’s tent.

Incense greeted her as she entered the dark tent. Another odor that she couldn’t place
—
a sweet musky smell
—
seemed to permeate her senses. As her eyes became used to the dark, Imdyr saw that the tent was empty. Empty, and yet, not. Imdyr could feel Areyn’s power everywhere
—
it was as tangible as the incense that wafted through the tent. She took a step forward.

Suddenly, she felt a strong hand grasp her neck from behind and pull her backwards. Another hand clamped around her mouth so she could not scream. Imdyr turned to see ice-blue eyes glitter with a red light in the darkness.

Who are you?

Imdyr smiled inwardly, despite her fear.
I have come for you, Areyn Sehduk.

A hesitation.
I am Akwel.

Is that what the god of destruction calls himself?

Areyn released her, his eyes glowing menacingly. “What are you?” he growled.

“I am Imdyr, High Priestess of Fala,” she said.

“An
Eltar
,” Areyn said. He gazed at her, trying to read her mind and found it was shut to him. “A daughter of the winged goddess. Why do you seek a
Silren
? We consider you a little more than animals.”

“Which is why it surprises me that you took a
Silren
body,” Imdyr remarked, appraisingly. She approached him and put her arms around his neck. “It is said that Fala was once your lover…” Imdyr kissed him passionately.

Areyn pulled away. “Who sent you?” he demanded. It bothered him that he couldn’t read her mind. “How did you get past the guards?”

“All in due time,” she said, kissing him again. “If you please me, I might grant you what you most desire.”

“There is nothing that you would have that I would want.”

“Really?” Imdyr said, pulling away and feigning surprise. “Then, I suppose I could offer Rhyn’athel the same. Maybe a god of light would be more appreciative of my gifts…”

Areyn curbed his temper as his curiosity took hold. “What gifts?”

“The Nine Worlds, of course.”

Areyn licked his lips; hunger glittering in his eyes. “Perhaps I was being hasty,” he said. “I will listen.”

“Later,” she said, sliding out of her clothes. “You must please me first.”

CHAPTER Twenty-One

Lachlei stood on the hill overlooking Caer Lochvaren. The stars shone brightly overhead as the three moons, Tomah, Iamar, and Mani, crested the horizon. As it had been in ancient times, the
Chi’lan
now met to choose their ruler and champion. Her personal guard,
Chi’lan
warriors all, stood beside her. Over five hundred warriors, torches blazing, stood around Lachlei as she faced Laewynd. She was ready for combat.

“Does anyone challenge the
Lochvaur
champion?” Laewynd spoke. He held a small circlet in both hands, awaiting a response.

Silence ensued. Lachlei glanced at her
Chi’lan
. Rhyn stood beside her, as promised. One by one, she met the gazes of the warriors she thought capable of challenging her. Rhyn, Cahal, Tamar, Kellachan… One by one, the warriors shook their heads. Lachlei smiled. If none challenged her right, she would be Rhyn’athel’s champion and queen of the
Lochvaur
. She recalled how Fialan had taken the throne without a single challenge. None dared challenge what was Fialan’s right…

“I challenge.”

A voice broke her from her reverie, and she focused on the speaker. Murmurs ran through the
Chi’lan
—
there had not been a challenger in over five hundred years. Lachlei turned to see Kieran from the High Council step forward.

“I challenge her blood-right,” he said, his silver eyes narrowing.

Lachlei met the man’s gaze. “You challenge me?” she asked. Despite Laewynd’s threats and her earlier fears, she had not expected a challenge
—
especially from one of the Council members. But Laewynd had not said the Council vote was unanimous. Indeed, it did not have to be
—
Fialan had won the crown through a simple majority.

The thought of fighting another
Chi’lan
dismayed Lachlei. She now considered her opponent.

Kieran was an older warrior, loyal to Fialan, but Lachlei knew little about him, save that he had been in Fialan’s guard. He wore an older-style scale hauberk and his broadsword was made from darkened steel. One eye was glass-blue
—
cloudy
—
from an injury sustained long ago. Kieran steeled his jaw as he spoke. “It is my right as
Chi’lan
,” he said. “Regardless of whether I am first-blood.”

Lachlei glanced at Cahal, who nodded grimly. That was technically true
—
any
Chi’lan
had the right to challenge for kingship. She saw Rhyn’s eyes harden.

“That is your right, Kieran,” she agreed. “But, I would ask you to reconsider.”

“Does Fialan’s consort fear a fight?” the warrior replied. “Or has the trappings of royalty dulled your skills?”

Murmurs ran through the
Chi’lan
. Lachlei smiled slightly. “No, but evidently my appointment has sharpened your tongue,” she replied. “I suspect it is sharper than your sword.”

Laewynd stood between them. “Is this an official challenge?”

Kieran drew his sword. “It is.”

Laewynd looked at Lachlei. “Do you accept?”

Lachlei drew
Fyren
. Cahal pulled her aside, concern in his eyes. “Lachlei,” he whispered. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Lachlei took a deep breath. It would be a fight to the death or unless a contender yielded. “Why is he challenging me?” she whispered back. “I thought the
Chi’lan
were all of one mind.”

“Kieran challenges because of Laewynd,” Rhyn replied as he stood beside her. “He was the dissenting vote in the Council. There are those who believe you would be a pawn for the Council.”

Lachlei frowned. “A pawn?” She met his gaze. “Do others believe that?”

“Some,” admitted Cahal. “But I am not one of them.”

Lachlei turned to Rhyn. “Do you believe that?”

“I believe you will be Rhyn’athel’s champion,” the god replied. “I believe you are
Chi’lan
.”

She met his steady gaze and smiled. “Yes,” she shouted so all could hear. “I accept the challenge!”

Cheers ran through the crowd. She turned away, and felt Rhyn grip her arm.

Kieran is blind in his left eye,
Rhyn informed her in mindspeak.
He’s very strong, but not as fast
—
use that to your advantage.

Lachlei nodded. She crouched into a defensive position, holding
Fyren
ready. The warriors began to bang their weapons against their shields in time. Kieran dropped into a defensive position and they circled slowly, gauging each other. Lachlei kept her breathing measured. Time seemed to slow as she studied her adversary. Kieran was not only a seasoned warrior, but also much heavier and stronger. He had at least fifty pounds on her, and his height left her at a disadvantage. She would have to either hang back and wait for an opening or press her attack and risk taking a hit.

She could see in Kieran’s good eye that he too was weighing potential strategies. He had her at a disadvantage, but he knew she was
Chi’lan
trained. He circled and feinted, trying to draw her in. Lachlei backed away slightly. She took another breath and focused now
—
the roar from the
Chi’lan
, the beating of the weapons, everything was gone, save she and Kieran.

Without warning Kieran attacked. Lachlei parried and riposted, swinging
Fyren
around. Kieran parried again; the force of his blow jarred her arm. She slipped to his left side and swung
Fyren
. Kieran barely managed to parry the blow. Lachlei skittered out of range as he brought his own sword crashing down.

She smiled inwardly. Rhyn was right. She nearly got a blow in on Kieran’s left. It meant he was vulnerable there. Kieran would also be more protective of that side, knowing his limitations.

Before she could react, Kieran lunged at her, swinging his broadsword. Lachlei parried and attacked. Kieran countered. Lachlei took the full brunt of the blow on
Fyren
. The blow jarred her arm, threatening to numb it. She slipped inside, and
Fyren
twisted upward, cutting into Kieran’s arm.

The
Chi’lan
warrior yelled and backed off as
Fyren’s
adamantine blade drew first blood just above the elbow. Lachlei followed,
Chi’lan
bloodlust in her eyes, as she swung the battle blade. Another cut, this time across the chest, but the scale armor held. Lachlei realized too late that Kieran had her where he wanted her.

Kieran swung his own blade. Lachlei backed off as the blade hit her helm hard and bounced into her left shoulder, biting through mail. She felt the snap as the heavy sword broke her collarbone, and she screamed as the sword continued to bite in. The pain blinded and sickened her and she dropped to her knees.

“Do you yield?” she heard a voice somewhere beyond the pain.

Lachlei opened her eyes. She had dropped
Fyren
and was now on her hands and knees, leaning into her right hand to keep from collapsing to the ground.

“Do you yield?” The voice came again.

Lachlei closed her eyes again. Her mouth was dry and she could not speak. The pain was intense.

You are first-blood. Is this how Rhyn’athel’s champion would die?

 Lachlei hesitated. She concentrated on the pain and found it lessening. Like all first-bloods, she could heal
—
but could she heal herself? She now focused on the wound.

“Do you yield?”

Silence ensued. The drumming stopped, and the warriors were silent.

Lachlei continued to concentrate, and her shoulder became warm. The pain disappeared and she could feel the bone begin to knit.

You are first-blood.

Lachlei raised her head and met Kieran’s gaze defiantly. “I am first-blood,” she said, her voice strong. “I do not yield!”

Kieran raised his sword for the final blow. Lachlei leapt to her feet, slamming her foot into his knee and taking him down, sweeping his legs out from under him. Kieran fell, dropping the sword and grasping Lachlei as he went down. Lachlei struck his jaw with a solid palm heel strike and rolled from his grasp. She rolled onto
Fyren
and leapt to her feet, sword in hand. Kieran was armed and on his feet as well, but not as steady. Lachlei had not broken his knee, but she had done damage to his right leg.

Lachlei knew by the look in Kieran’s eyes that the
Chi’lan
would show no mercy now. He swung his sword, pressing her backwards. Lachlei tried to slip under his attacks, but each time she was driven back.

Hold your ground.

Lachlei heard the voice in her head, but made no reply. She was drenched in sweat and blood, and was tiring now. She could not see how she could hold her ground without losing her head to Kieran’s blade. Kieran slammed his blade down as Lachlei brought
Fyren
up. This time, as the blades chattered against each other, she twisted
Fyren
and caught both blades, redirecting them down, point first into the ground. Using the momentum, she leapt up and threw a round kick to Kieran’s blind side, hitting him in the head.

The kick sent Kieran sprawling, and Lachlei pulled both swords from the ground. She stood over the fallen
Chi’lan
with both blades pointed at Kieran’s throat.

“Yield!” she demanded. Silence ensued.

Kieran looked up, his face bloody from the broken nose and smashed jaw. He shook his head. “I will not.”

Lachlei let the sword blade linger for a moment as it touched his neck. “Kieran, I need good warriors like you. Yield
—
you are no good to me serving Areyn Sehduk.”

“I won’t serve a pawn.”

“Then, serve a
Chi’lan
,” she said. “For I am
Chi’lan
, though perhaps in the past three years I may have forsaken the path. I swear by Rhyn’athel’s blood I serve the warrior god first.” She looked up and met Rhyn’s piercing gaze.
I know what I am now,
she thought. “Kieran, I am Rhyn’athel’s champion.” With that, she thrust his blade into the ground.

A thunderclap shook the hill as white fire flew from the blade. For a moment, the white-hot fire surrounded her. The
Chi’lan
drew back in surprise and then the flames vanished. Burning pain shot through Lachlei’s forearm, and she almost dropped
Fyren
. Carefully, she sheathed her sword, pulled the gauntlet off, and pulled back the mail and sleeve of her arming shirt. She stared at her right arm.

“What is it?” Cahal asked as Kieran’s eyes widened.

Lachlei met Kieran’s gaze, and the defeated
Chi’lan
nodded. “It’s true, then,” he said.

Lachlei looked up and met Rhyn’s gaze. “I’ve been chosen,” she whispered. She brandished her forearm to show the new mark of a black dragon still forming on her skin.