Lachlei (15 page)

CHAPTER Thirty

Kiril led them through a stone archway leading into the fortress. It was dark, save for the occasional torch and firepit. Like the fortress itself, the interior was red sandstone, and the sconces cast eerie shadows across the narrow corridors. The acrid smoke from the ironwood and coal wafted through the corridors, stinging their eyes and throats.

Fialan had expected the fortress to be empty, but it was far from it. They passed many
Chi’lan
warriors, hooded and cloaked as if to hide their identities. Most were huddled in groups beside firepits. Their furtive glances as he passed suggested that they had no desire to reveal themselves, although they were curious over the new warrior who strode through their halls, unafraid to show his face.

Here are the kings and the warriors of Rhyn’athel,
Fialan thought angrily.
Brought down to huddling around tiny fires.
Look what the Truce has brought us.

Kiril led them deeper into the fortress until they came to a wrought-iron door. It was crudely forged, but impressive given the lack of raw materials. The two
Chi’lan
who stood at the door gazed at Fialan curiously, but said nothing and let the three pass. Fialan could see their eyes gleam in the darkness.

Fialan blinked as he entered the room. The room was well lit compared to the rest of the fortress, with a large firepit in the center that burned red hot with coal and ironwood. The walls, doors, pillars, floors and ceiling were all carved with runes. Fialan recognized them as being from the ancient tongue
—
the tongue of the gods. Some were used as wards against demons; others were prayers to the gods of light. Rhyn’athel’s rune, the rune of
Teiwas
, figured prominently throughout. The room was thick with smoke, and the ruddy light cast ethereal shadows throughout it.

Chi’lan
warriors stood or sat on either side, many with their cowls drawn, but some were bareheaded like Fialan. They turned to see the newcomers and to stare at Fialan as he strode into the room. But, Fialan’s eyes were fixed on the warrior who sat on the throne at the back.

“Welcome, Fialan,” the warrior said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

*****

Fialan stared at Lochvaur as the son of Rhyn’athel stood to greet him.
Here is the warrior’s god’s own son
, he thought. For Lochvaur was every bit a godling. He stood proud and tall; his frame muscular and battle-hardened. Fialan saw the resemblance between himself and the godling immediately
—
their features were similar enough to suggest a blood-tie. And yet Fialan knew the blood of Rhyn’athel ran thin in his veins compared to Lochvaur. Lochvaur’s eyes held power that Fialan couldn’t begin to guess. This was a man who slew demons and
Jotunn
fearlessly.

In his life, Fialan had heard himself compared to Lochvaur. But, standing before Rhyn’athel’s son, Fialan knew there was no comparison. Lochvaur was power incarnate.

 Fialan glanced at Eshe. “I thought you said that Lochvaur has none of his former powers.”

Eshe shook her head. “He doesn’t.”

Fialan steeled his jaw and stepped forward. “My lord,” he said as he strode towards Lochvaur.

“Fialan,” Lochvaur smiled warmly and gripped Fialan’s arms in the traditional
Chi’lan
greeting. “We don’t stand much on ceremony here with so many warriors and kings around.”

“I would imagine not,” Fialan said wryly. “But how do you know me?”

Lochvaur grinned. “Areyn can’t quite take all my power from me. I can’t foresee everything, but I can gain glimpses into the Wyrd.”

“You’re still linked with the Wyrd?” Fialan breathed, not daring to believe his ears.                                               

“Oh yes
—
despite what the naysayers would claim,” said Lochvaur. “I have more power than even Areyn suspects, but he knows I’m dangerous, so he leaves me alone.”

“Why haven’t you challenged him?”

“Because Areyn is a god
—
and I am not quite. Even Ni’yah can’t defeat Areyn
—
and he is the most powerful of the gods of light next to Rhyn’athel. Rhyn’athel is the only god who can defeat Areyn.” He paused. “You’ve brought me something. Something I should see?”

“I and my personal guard were attacked along the King’s Highway,” Fialan said. “A single warrior attacked us. I was able to thrust
Fyren
into his chest, and yet he lived.” He drew the ghost blade. The black blood glowed as he held it up for Lochvaur to see.

Murmurs ran through the hall as Lochvaur gazed silently at the ghost blade. “May I take it?” he asked at last. Fialan nodded and offered the blade. Lochvaur took the sword and a slight smile crept across his face. “
Fyren
, my old blade,” he murmured. He turned to Fialan with a smile. “Not quite
Fyren
, but close. It was my first sword as a
Chi’lan
.”

Fialan nodded. “What of the blood?’

Lochvaur’s grin widened. “I’m sure Areyn didn’t appreciate being bested.”

“Areyn? Areyn Sehduk?” Fialan asked incredulously.

“Oh yes,” Lochvaur laughed. “He would’ve killed you for your impudence, if naught else.”

Eshe and Kiril stared at Fialan. “Are you saying Fialan fought the death god himself?” Eshe asked. A look of wonder filled her face.

“Not just fought,” Lochvaur replied. “He bested Areyn.” He grinned wryly at Fialan. “Not bad for one of my heirs.”

“Then, the Truce…” Fialan began.

“Is over,” Lochvaur replied. “Your death, Fialan, as unfortunate as it is, has brought us freedom.”

“What freedom?” Kiril said. “We are still here in
Tarentor
, Lochvaur. We are still under Areyn’s control. We still hear the demon screams outside the fortress at night, and they still come for us.”

“Patience, Kiril,” Lochvaur growled.

“Patience! Patience?” Kiril shouted. “We have been patient, Lochvaur. When will you accept Rhyn’athel has abandoned us?”

Lochvaur’s eyes glinted menacingly and held Kiril’s gaze. “Do you believe that, Kiril?”

Kiril said nothing.

“If so, then you are free to leave
—
to join the rest if you wish. Serve Areyn, if you choose. I will not stop you.”

“How can you be patient after so many years? After so many of us have lost hope?” Eshe spoke.

“Because I have seen more than you,” Lochvaur replied. “And I know what will be.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, my friends, Rhyn’athel already knows that Areyn has violated the Truce.” He handed the ghost blade back to Fialan.

This will be a trying time for you,
Fialan heard Lochvaur’s voice in his head.
As it will for us all, but especially for you. Remember, you are Chi’lan first and always.

CHAPTER Thirty-One

Rhyn’athel rode, the glowing Sword of Power,
Teiwaz
, in his hands. Once the
Silren
charged, Rhyn’athel could only think of the battle and naught else. The mortal body had limits, and he quickly became fatigued. In his god form, he could fight all day without feeling pain or exhaustion. Now, he experienced both.

The first
Silren
he fought slipped a lucky blow past his guard, and the sword glanced off the warrior god’s adamantine armor on his left arm. Pain shot through Rhyn’athel’s arm as he felt the crushing blow and the snap of a bone. The god bellowed in rage and pain. The Sword of Power flashed as Rhyn’athel brought the blade down on the
Silren
warrior. The
Silren
parried, but the warrior’s sword could not withstand the god’s blade.
Teiwaz
shattered the sword and cleaved deep into the man’s chest. The light faded from the man’s ice-blue eyes, and Rhyn’athel withdrew the Sword of Power.

Rhyn’athel looked around and saw that the battle had moved farther down the hill. The
Lochvaur Chi’lan
, as few as they were, had stopped the first attack. A first-blood like Lachlei and Fialan could heal themselves as well as others, but it took time and a large amount of power. The warrior god didn’t have the time to keep appearances up. Rhyn’athel paused and let the bones knit and the break heal in his arm.

He looked around for Lachlei, but saw nothing. Bewildered, he scanned the battlefield and a glint caught his eye. He urged the stallion forward until he saw
Fyren
as it lay in the mud. Glancing around, he quickly dismounted and picked up the sword. Lachlei would not have left Fialan’s sword lying around. Rhyn’athel used the Sight and, to his horror, saw Lachlei behind the
Silren
lines attacking Areyn.

“Lachlei!” he gasped. He leapt on his horse and spurred it into the battle.

*****

Areyn Sehduk rode forward amid the
Silren
as they began their advance. The
Lochvaur
were out of arrows and despite their brave charge, there was not enough of them to hold back the
Silren
tide. The
Silren
would destroy the
Chi’lan
and then march on to Caer Lochvaren.

Yet, even in his gloating, something nagged Areyn. Something had turned aside his magic. Something very powerful
—
more powerful than an ordinary first-blood. His magic should have incinerated the
Chi’lan
along the front lines. Instead, the fire had washed over them like a harmless breeze. Could it have been Ni’yah? He searched the area with his senses, but there was no sign of the wolf-god. Still, there was something familiar…

“Demon!” he heard shouting. Areyn Sehduk looked up to see a
Lochvaur
woman astride a horse, wielding a hand and a half. She spurred the horse towards him, swinging the sword overhead.

Areyn barely had time to parry as Lachlei brought the sword down. He was amazed at her fierceness and strength. Slayer leapt up and ripped into her horse, but the
Chi’lan
woman was too quick. She leapt off the horse and slashed the adamantine blade into the demon.

Slayer howled in pain and rage. The adamantine blade cut deep into the demon
—
not enough to fatally wound it, but enough to anger it. It slavered and snapped at Lachlei.

“Demon!” she roared at Areyn. “You killed Fialan!”

Areyn smiled. “So, you’re Fialan’s mate, Lachlei?” He searched his memory, but had none of her.
Odd…

“I am Lachlei, daughter of Lochynvaur and Ladara.
Chi’lan
warrior and Queen of the
Lochvaur
,” she said, keeping her silver eyes fixed on the demon horse. She could see now that it was not a horse, but a demon with sharp teeth and claws. Black blood oozed from its wound. Before her eyes, the wound closed and the demon was unscathed.

Areyn chuckled. “Well, Queen Lachlei, we shall see how well you can fight demons.”

Suddenly, dark flames exploded around them. A wall of black fire formed a fifty-foot ring around them. Lachlei stared at the flames and then turned back to Areyn. “What is your game, demon?”

The death god laughed. “To watch you die, of course. If you can take care of my little pet, perhaps I’ll consider fighting you.”

Slayer hissed in anger and lunged at her. Lachlei leapt aside, barely escaping the demon’s massive teeth. She wielded the sword only to have it glance off on the creature’s scaly hide. Slayer snarled and lunged at her again. Lachlei parried, only to have the demon catch the sword in its teeth and rip it from her hands. Weaponless, save for a small killing dagger, Lachlei backed up. She pulled the small dagger from her belt and tried to focus on her power.

As the demon approached, Lachlei tried to conjure something
—
anything
—
to help her with her fight, but to no avail. Something seemed to prevent her from using her powers. She could hear Areyn’s laughter as she retreated from the demon steed.

This was how Fialan died,
she thought as she held her dagger up in defense.

*****

Rhyn’athel watched as a wall of flame shot into the sky. “Areyn,” he whispered as he saw the flames course overhead. What was the death god doing? Rhyn’athel dared not use his full powers, but he had to know…

Tamar paused beside Rhyn and stared. “What does it mean?”

Rhyn’athel touched something familiar. “Lachlei!” he said. “Lachlei is facing the demon.”

*****

A thunderclap followed by a brilliant flash of light shook the ground. Rhyn appeared from the smoke and light, riding through the wall of flame and wielding his Sword of Power. He slammed the Sword into the demon horse, severing its neck.

Areyn stared aghast
—
the warrior had broken through all his defenses. He called up his powers and hurled flames at the
Chi’lan
warrior. Rhyn brushed them aside and rode towards Lachlei on his gray stallion.

“Are you all right?” he asked, reaching down to offer his hand.

She grinned. “What took you so long?” She grasped his hand and leapt behind him.

Rhyn’athel turned to Areyn. The death god drew his dark blade and strode towards him. Areyn focused his power to destroy the newcomer, only to have his power dissipate on an invisible shield. Areyn Sehduk gazed into those steady silver eyes and saw no fear, only hatred.

“Let’s finish this now,” Rhyn’athel said. His voice held an edge that Areyn recognized. For a moment, the death god felt fear.

Was this Rhyn’athel?

Like many
Lochvaur
first-bloods, the newcomer bore a resemblance to the warrior god. But, did that mean he
was
the warrior god? Areyn tried to sense what lay beyond the man who sat on the gray charger. He was abruptly slapped back.

“I grow weary of your games,” the
Chi’lan
spoke.

Areyn hesitated. It might be Ni’yah. If so, Areyn knew that although he could defeat the wolf-god, it would take much of his energy. He would lose his form and expose himself to Rhyn’athel.

Suddenly, the wall of flames disappeared. They stood now facing each other as the
Silren
army charged towards them. Rhyn’athel paused for a moment.

Another time, Areyn…
Rhyn’s voice rang clearly in the death god’s mind. He turned his horse and urged it back towards the
Lochvaur
lines.