Lachlei (12 page)

CHAPTER Twenty-Four

The autumn air of the Lochvaren Mountains held a bite, Lachlei decided. She sat on her warhorse, looking back at the
Chi’lan
warriors who rode behind her. She pulled her cloak more closely around her. Two thousand of her personal guard followed her to fight against the demon who sought to destroy her people. Two thousand
Chi’lan
out of forty-five thousand total warriors. She wished the Council had granted her part of the army.

It had been a fortnight since they left Caer Lochvaren and headed northward along the King’s Highway. Snow was already falling in the higher passes, and the trees were flocked with the last night’s snow. Lachlei stared ahead. More forest lay before them with a steep climb as they headed towards one of the smaller passes. It was rocky, and the snow blanketed the ground. She patted her warhorse’s neck as steam issued from its nostrils. She glanced behind again. Despite the cold, the army was in good spirits and the warriors were well equipped.

“I think we should make camp once we cross the pass,” Rhyn said. “We’ll have to camp in the lower forest
—
it’ll provide some protection against the wind at night.” Rhyn rode beside her and Cahal. It seemed natural for the North Marches
Chi’lan
to ride next to her. He proved to be invaluable as they rode northward, demonstrating his knowledge of the land and obstacles ahead.

Lachlei gazed at the road as it wound its way through the trees. She could just see the pass beyond a small break ahead. “What about avalanches?”

Rhyn shook his head. “Too early in the season just yet, but we’re going to have to be careful. In a few weeks, the snow may block our route back along the King’s Highway.”

“Alternatives?”

Rhyn frowned. “We could go around onto the northern edge of Darkling Plain, but that will lead us through
Elesil
and
Eltar
territory. It’ll probably be our only option once the snow becomes deep.”

“Damn inconvenient time to start a war,” Lachlei remarked. “Who fights with winter coming on?”

“The
Silren
, evidently,” Cahal remarked dryly.

They rode forward, leading the
Chi’lan
across the first pass. The snow was a little more than a half foot deep, easy enough for their horses to plow through. Once on top of the pass, Lachlei gazed eastward across the mountains and could barely see the brown and gold plains beyond. How many miles would it be out of their way if they had to take that route? A hundred or more, certainly.

They continued farther down the mountain until they found a relatively flat area where the army could camp. Weary from exertion, the
Chi’lan
made camp and prepared for the night.

Lachlei entered her own tent and found a small woodstove with a flue had been set up. The air was warm inside, making her drowsy and she stripped off her cloak, layers of furs, and mail down to her tunic and breeches. A small kettle of water was already boiling on the hot stove and she poured herself a cup.

“May I enter?” she heard Rhyn’s voice from outside the door.

“Please, come in,” Lachlei said. She poured him a cup of hot water and offered it to him. “I’m sorry it’s not spiced wine.”

“I’m not,” Rhyn replied, gratefully accepting the cup and drinking. “We need our wits about us. Our scouts just came back
—
the
Silren
are camped in the next valley.”

“Are you sure?” Lachlei said, lowering her cup and staring. “My Sight has shown nothing.”

“Something is blocking our ability to see exactly where they are,” Rhyn replied. “But, the shield goes both ways; we’ve been able to keep our own army’s precise location hidden from them.”

“Until now,” Lachlei remarked. She shook her head. “They’re bound to have scouts.”

“No doubt,” the
Chi’lan
said. “They’ll wait for us, though. The
Silren
will prefer to fight rested.”

“Can we wait for them?”

Rhyn shook his head. “Inadvisable. We’re heavily outnumbered, and we’ll give up our advantage if we fail to take the higher ground.”

“Your recommendations?” Lachlei asked.

“Rest tonight,” Rhyn said. “We have a day’s march between us, so it is unlikely that the
Silren
will try anything tonight, but we’ll post a watch just in case. We can awaken before dawn and bring our army to the ridgeline along the pass. At that point, we’ll prepare and bivouac there. Then, we’ll attack at dusk.”

Lachlei nodded. “Are there really ten thousand of them?”

He gulped the rest of the water. “That’s what the scouts are reporting.” He paused. “The lay of the land will dictate the battle.” He smiled at her. “We both need rest. Don’t worry just yet, Lachlei. Something will present itself.”

Lachlei watched as he left. “I hope you’re right, Rhyn.”

*****

Laddel stood along the parapets of Caer Ladren and gazed into the crimson sunset. He was a shorter
Eleion
with an agouti mane and brass eyes like his father, Ni’yah, the wolf-god. He was ancient by
Eleion
standards, having lived through the war between the gods nearly two thousand years before. The last war was still vividly etched in his mind.

The
Laddel
fortress-city towered over the forest that stretched for miles in all directions. Hewn from the native red sandstone, the city was a beacon of the
Laddel
might. The towers curved upward, carved with symbols of the forest and the wolf. The main keep sat in the center of the towers, the green and silver banners hung from the walls. Along the parapets, silver-haired
Laddel
warriors kept watch, their green and silver cloaks flashed in the sunlight. They had grown from a small kindred to a powerful nation within the two thousand years. None dared challenge the
Laddel
.

And yet, Laddel stood alone with his dark thoughts. Twice he had felt the tremor that ran through the world’s core. The first time, that tremor bought terrible destruction on the
Eleion
. Laddel had been young then
—
not much more than boy
—
when the war of the gods began. Those were the days when the gods of light walked among the
Eleion
. Before the Eternal Fire and before the Truce.

Before Areyn Sehduk’s vengeance.

“Of all the living first-bloods, you alone recognize Areyn’s stench in this world,” came a voice from behind him.

“It isn’t hard,” Laddel replied and turned to Ni’yah. “I’ve had plenty of past experience.” He paused and smiled. “I was wondering when you might return to Caer Ladren, Father.”

Ni’yah nodded. The wolf-god leaned against a merlon. “I wish I came with happier news.”

“Areyn Sehduk has returned?”

“Indeed.”

“What of the Truce?”

“Areyn has taken the form of a
Silren
,” Ni’yah replied. “He thought to dupe Rhyn’athel and me by his disguise. Even now, he is marching on the
Lochvaur
.”

“The
Lochvaur
.” Laddel gazed into the setting sun. “We had heard of Fialan’s demise. It was no accident.”

“Indeed,” Ni’yah said. “Lachlei, Fialan’s consort, is leading the
Chi’lan
against the
Silren
.”

“Lachlei
—
Ladara’s daughter?”

“The same,” said Ni’yah, a glint in his eyes. “Lachlei is your great-granddaughter.”

Laddel chuckled. “A
Laddel
blood on the throne of the
Lochvaur
.”

“Indeed
—
and a twice first-blood
—
Lachlei is quite powerful. Areyn doesn’t know this yet.”

Laddel shrugged. “So, why are you here? The
Chi’lan
are legendary
—
they will turn the
Silren
army.”

“Lachlei only has the
Chi’lan
. The Council wouldn’t grant her the army.”

Laddel shook his head and turned away. “The Truce has been broken, father, and now you are asking me to lead my warriors against the
Silren
when Rhyn’athel’s own kindred won’t fight for themselves? You ask that the
Laddel
give up our lives in defense of another kindred?”

“If you do not fight Areyn Sehduk now with the
Lochvaur
, you will find yourself fighting Areyn alone,” said the wolf-god, his tone low and menacing. “And even I may not be able to help you.”

“The
Lochvaur
are Rhyn’athel’s kindred. The Truce has been broken. If the
Lochvaur
are so important, then let Rhyn’athel save them.”

“You would defy me?”

“I would defy folly,” Laddel replied, turning and walking away. “My father, you are a meddler. If it were so serious, Rhyn’athel would join the fray.” He sighed and shook his head as he continued down the wall walk towards the tower.

“He has.”

Laddel halted and turned around once more. “What did you say?”

Ni’yah’s face was grim. “Rhyn’athel has already joined in the fight,” he said. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but you’ve left me with no choice.”

Laddel stared. “Rhyn’athel is
here
?”

“Yes. He’s leading the
Chi’lan
against Areyn Sehduk.”

Silence followed as Laddel met the wolf-god’s gaze. “Who knows?”

“No one, save you and I,” Ni’yah replied. “Not even Rhyn’athel’s own
Chi’lan
know that he is among them. If Areyn were to learn this, it would take the war to the next stage.” He paused. “I know you’re powerful enough to keep that secret from Areyn, but no one else must know.”

“Rhyn’athel has joined the fight,” Laddel mused. “Even with my silence, Areyn will learn soon enough.”

Ni’yah nodded. “Yes, he will.”

“The
Laddel
will be dragged into this regardless of our wishes.”

“You can meet Areyn on his terms or on yours.” The god shrugged. “The choice is yours.” With that, the god vanished.

Laddel sighed and shook his head. He leaned against the merlon, catching the last rays of the setting sun and gazing into the dark sky.

“Father, was that the wolf-god?”

Laddel turned his gaze to his son, Ladsil. Ladsil was a much younger version of himself with the same wolf eyes and agouti hair. Laddel consider his son thoughtfully. He had been about Ladsil’s age when the war between the gods began. “Yes, it was,” he said.

“What did he say?”

“The
Lochvaur
need our help. Prepare the army
—
we’ll be marching from Caer Ladren within the week.”

CHAPTER Twenty-Five

Lachlei looked down into the valley where the
Silren
army waited. Ten thousand warriors stood ready to fight her and her
Chi’lan
. Overhead, the sky was dark with approaching storm clouds and a cold wind blew from the east. They broke camp early and marched to the top of the next ridgeline above the valley where the
Silren
army sat.

Beside her rode Rhyn, his steel gaze studying the
Silren
lines, his face grim. She tried to discern what Rhyn was sensing, but she could sense nothing save the massive shield that seemed impervious to her power.

“Is the demon there?” she asked tentatively.

Rhyn nodded once and continued to gaze into the valley. “He’s planning on trapping us within the valley and crushing our army with his numbers.”

“That would make sense,” Lachlei said and fell silent, seeing Rhyn lost in thought.

Rhyn gazed at the
Silren
army. Without the full
Lochvaur
army, the
Lochvaur
had no chance against an army five times their size. A ride into that valley would be suicide.

“Is there any way for us to lure him from the valley?”

“Lure?” Rhyn glanced at her and then back to the valley. A slow smile crept across his face. “Lure — that’s it...”

Lachlei gazed at him. “Do you have an idea?”

 “Of course. It’s simple, but he’s arrogant enough to fall for it.”

Lachlei gazed at Rhyn curiously. “Who’s arrogant? Do you have an idea?”

“Yes,” he said, grinning. “You gave me the idea
—
I need five hundred of your troops.”

“Five hundred?” she stared. “That isn’t enough against ten thousand.”

“No, it’s not
—
but it will be enough to draw him out.”

Lachlei’s eyes glinted as realization dawned in them. “Of course,” she said. “We’ll be ready for them.”

“Then we’ll charge at dusk.”

*****

Areyn gazed at the southern ridges. The
Lochvaur
were there, waiting. Areyn could wait, too. At some point, the
Lochvaur
would have to ride down through the pass and engage the army. With the
Silren’s
overwhelming numbers, it would be a slaughter.

The
Lochvaur
had other possible choices. One would be to retreat. The other would be to try to circle around, but their way would be blocked. No, the
Lochvaur
would come to him in good time.

Imdyr sat beside him, clad in her black mail. The
Lochvaur
were there as she had told him. In fact, everything Imdyr had told him had come to pass. Areyn considered the priestess with some puzzlement. She seemed able to get around the barriers he could not. It was as though she had a goddess’s powers. And yet, Areyn Sehduk could sense that she was mortal and nothing more. He reached out with his senses to see how many of the
Lochvaur
army was marching against them and abruptly was shoved back.

“How many?” Areyn asked.

Imdyr looked sideways at the death god as if he had taunted her. “There are only two thousand,” she said. “They will attack
—
there!” She pointed to the cleft in the ravine.

Areyn gazed at the ravine. “That takes no sorcery to figure out,” he said. “Unless the
Lochvaur
are suicidal, there is no other way.”

Imdyr’s gaze narrowed, but said naught for some time. “There is a god among the
Lochvaur
,” she said at length.

Areyn started. “A god
—
are you sure?”

Imdyr closed her eyes as her battle horse stomped impatiently. She opened her eyes and met the death god’s gaze. “I am certain of it.”

Areyn paused. “It must be Ni’yah
—
I’ve seen the cur skulking around. Little matter
—
he hasn’t the power to defeat me.”

“What of Rhyn’athel?” Imdyr asked.

“Rhyn’athel?” Areyn spoke sharply. Imdyr smiled mockingly at the fear in his voice. “Rhyn’athel wouldn’t dare; his precious Truce means more to him than a minor encroachment. Ni’yah, however, would become involved.”

“The god I sense is powerful,” Imdyr remarked. “I hope that it is the wolf-god as you think.”

Areyn looked at the mountains, trying to sense the god. How Imdyr was able to break through barriers he could not was indeed puzzling. “It is Ni’yah,” he replied. “Only the wolf-god would be so bold.”

*****

The sun was beginning to sink low in the horizon when Rhyn began to select the warriors for the assault. He rode among the
Chi’lan
, choosing the best riders he could find. When he had picked his five hundred, Rhyn returned to the front lines where Lachlei and Cahal waited.

“I’ve chosen my warriors,” Rhyn said. “I’ll be taking Cahal, if you can spare him.”

“I can’t,” Lachlei said. “He’ll be with the remainder of the army.”

“You’re coming with us?”

“Yes,” Lachlei said with a sly smile. “Any objections?”

“Yes,” Rhyn said. “Who will lead the army?”

“Cahal will.”

“Cahal?” he said. “And if you fall?”

“I’m Rhyn’athel’s champion, am I not?” she asked. “I’m your queen. I should lead the attack.” She crossed her arms. “If Fialan were alive, you’d expect no less from him.”

“We wouldn’t put Fialan under undue risk,” Cahal replied. “They’ll be plenty of fighting here with the rest of the army.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’ll be risking my life regardless of where I am, save perhaps, behind the walls of Caer Lochvaren. I am your champion and your queen. I will lead the charge.” With that, Lachlei rode off.

Rhyn glanced at Cahal, who gave the
Chi’lan
a helpless shrug. Rhyn followed her.

Lachlei glanced back, irritated. “Rhyn, you don’t need to follow me
—
I’ve made up my mind.”

“You don’t trust me leading the attack.”

Lachlei met Rhyn’s gaze. His silver eyes betrayed no emotion. “Of course, I do,” she said, a slight hesitation in her voice. “That’s not what’s at issue here.”

“What
is
at issue?”

Lachlei paused and silence ensued. She turned her horse away, unwilling to have Rhyn see her expression. She knew her face was red from anger and shame. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Lachlei turned her horse around. Rhyn was still gazing at her with those steady silver eyes, his expression thoughtful, neither disapproving or condescending. “The High Council…” she began and her voice trailed off. Her horse nickered softly and pawed the ground. She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“I am not the High Council,” Rhyn said. “I care little what the High Council thinks of you. Nor do the
Chi’lan
serve the High Council. The
Chi’lan
serve the king
—
or queen of the
Lochvaur
—
and Rhyn’athel.”

“The High Council chose me because they believed they could bend me to their will.”

“Can they?”

Rhyn’s words stung, even if the question was a simple one. Had she given into the High Council’s demands by not challenging Laewynd? What would Fialan have done in this situation? Lachlei felt her fist tighten on her horse’s reins and the stallion tossed its head in displeasure. “They wouldn’t give me warriors.”

“The
Chi’lan
are your warriors.”

“But the soldiers…”

“A
Chi’lan
is worth ten soldiers.”

“There are ten thousand
Silren
and a demon waiting to attack us,” Lachlei said, her face flushing.

“I would say our odds are about even,” Rhyn’athel said wryly.

For a moment, their gazes locked. Rhyn’athel smiled, and Lachlei chuckled. “Rhyn,” she said, shaking her head. “If I only had such faith as you.”

“Lachlei,” he said. “Let me lead the attack. The rest of the army will stand ready with you. There is little chance of me being ransomed; however, you will sorely test Laewynd’s loyalty if you are captured.”

Lachlei laughed. “I can imagine Laewynd’s expression if I were ransomed. He would probably appoint Kellachan or another warrior in my stead.” She paused. “Maybe even you.”

Rhyn chuckled. “I wouldn’t take it.”

“Why not?”
Rhyn would be a perfect champion,
she thought. He was a powerful first-blood and a natural leader. The
Chi’lan
respected him too
—
a respect not easily won.

He paused and became serious. “Because the
Lochvaur
already have a queen and Rhyn’athel already has a champion.”

Lachlei met his gaze. “Very well, Rhyn, take the charge. I will be waiting for your return.”

Rhyn’athel grinned. “Don’t worry
—
I’ll be chased by plenty of
Silren
.”