Lachlei (22 page)

CHAPTER Forty-Six

Fialan awoke in a tent at the army’s encampment. Every nerve burned within him, and he lay in agony for a while. Slowly, as the pain diminished, he was able to see again.

“Easy, Fialan, you’ve been through a lot.”

As his eyes focused, Fialan looked up and saw his father’s face. “Father?”

Lochalan nodded. He sat beside Fialan, looking much as Fialan remembered him. Fialan smiled as he realized how close he had come to resemble him. “Yes, my son, though I wish our meeting was under happier circumstances.”

“Where are Eshe and Kiril?”

“They’re both resting. You should rest as well.”

“Lochvaur,” Fialan said. “I heard Areyn and Lochvaur talking.”

Lochalan shook his head, but said nothing. His eyes hardened. “What were you doing away from the army?”

“Eshe
—
she…” Fialan paused. “She was disoriented from leaving
Tarentor
. She wandered away and got lost,” he lied. “Kiril and I went looking for her.”

“A noble gesture, but one you shouldn’t have made.”

Fialan sat up. “Lochvaur. Where’s Lochvaur?”

Lochalan hesitated.

“Father?”

“Lochvaur has taken the punishment intended for all of you.”

“Punishment?” Fialan stared, remembering the conversation between Lochvaur and Areyn.

Will you take responsibility for their actions?

“A flaying,” Lochalan said.

“No,” breathed Fialan. “Why? If Areyn wanted to punish anyone, he should have punished me.”

“Lochvaur is responsible for his men’s actions,” his father said. “Just as you would take responsibility for your own men.”

“But a flaying?”

“The demons wouldn’t have shown any mercy, my son. I don’t think you would’ve been able to recover from those wounds on top of your new body.”

“My new body?” Fialan stared at his hands. They looked the same.

“When you hit the perimeter, you burned off your body. That was the pain you felt. You’re not up to full strength yet.”

Fialan sat on the edge of the bed. His armor had been removed, and he was barefoot but he wore a tunic and breeches. “Where’s Lochvaur?”

“Resting
—
as you should be.”

Fialan tried to stand. Nausea assailed him as the room began to spin. He closed his eyes, fighting the heaves from his empty stomach before standing up.

“You’re more stubborn than even I remember,” Lochalan said. “You won’t be up to strength for at least a day.”

“I need to speak to Lochvaur,” Fialan said. He glanced around and saw that Eshe and Kiril lay unconscious beside him. Both looked deathly pale, and their eyes were open and unseeing. Fialan stared at them in horror. “Eshe? Kiril?” He turned to his father. “Are they…?”

Lochalan barked a short laugh. “You were that way for nearly two days. They’ll come out of it in time.”

Fialan saw his armor and weapons on a chest nearby. He pulled the arming shirt and breeches on and slid the heavy hauberk over his head. “Father, I must speak to Lochvaur. I bring news that may help us.”

Lochalan shook his head. “Very well, I will take you to him, but he may not see you.”

“I’ll take my chance.”

*****

Lochalan brought Fialan before Lochvaur’s tent. The tent flaps were closed and guards were posted outside the entrance.

“No one has been allowed inside
—
not since the flaying,” Lochalan said. “It takes time even for a son of Rhyn’athel to heal from such terrible wounds. Luckily, we have that time
—
the
Silren
and
Eltar
are late.”

“
Silren
.
Eltar
.” Fialan shook his head. “We are
Lochvaur
— not battle fodder.”

“We are Undead
—
Braesan
. We are expendable,” Lochalan replied. He turned to the guards. “My son, Fialan, wishes admittance.”

One guard shook his head. “No. We have orders from Lochvaur, himself. No one is to be admitted.”

Fialan?
Lochvaur’s voice rang in his head.

Yes, it’s me,
Fialan replied.

Lochalan looked at his son in amazement. “You can mindspeak?”

Let him pass,
came Lochvaur’s voice.

“I’ll explain later,” Fialan said. He stepped into the tent.

Lochvaur sat in near darkness, cloaked and hooded, so Fialan could not see his face.

Fialan hesitated as he entered. “Lochvaur, I…”

“There is no need for apologies, Fialan,” Lochvaur replied. His voice was raspy and barely audible. “Forgive my condition; I’m still not quite healed.”

“By Rhyn’athel’s sword!” Fialan swore. “Why? Why you?”

“Because Areyn can, Fialan. Areyn takes great pains to prove to me who has the upper hand. It’s almost as if he doesn’t believe it, himself.”

“Does he have the upper hand?”

“What do you think?” Was there a tinge of ironic humor in his voice?

“I think Areyn does at the present, but he is like a man who has caged a terrible dragon,” Fialan said. “He taunts the dragon, but isn’t quite certain of the cage’s strength.”

“An apt description,” remarked Lochvaur. “And now you know the game he and I play.”

“A dangerous one.”

“Is there any other kind to play?”

“What does Rhyn’athel think?”

“Rhyn’athel isn’t involved in this. This is personal between Areyn and me,” Lochvaur said. He paused. “Certainly, you didn’t come to chide me over our little game?”

“No, though Eshe and Kiril still lie unconscious because of it,” Fialan said.

“Eshe shouldn’t have fled; Kiril and you shouldn’t have gone after her.”

“Perhaps not,” Fialan said. “Would you like to know how we found her?”

Lochvaur stood up. “I was wondering who would be the first to no longer be Wyrd-blind…” Amusement colored his voice.

“You know?”

“I suspected
—
I’ve been feeling my own powers grow again, despite this poor facsimile Areyn calls a body…”

“But why?” Fialan mused. “Why can I mindspeak? Why am I starting to show my powers when I had none in
Tarentor
?”

“Because you’re a creature of the worlds of the living, Fialan
—
just as I am,” Lochvaur said. “Your powers are returning because you gain your strength from this world. We already have to eat and drink. The more of this world we take in, the less we are of
Tarentor
. We become of this world again, Fialan. The only other world that would allow us to gain our power back would be
Athelren
, itself.”

“Because we came from
Athelren
originally,” Fialan mused.

“You’ve been talking to Eshe
—
she remembers a time before when the
Eleion
came from
Athelren
.”

“Then, it’s true,” Fialan marveled. “
Athelren
is our home.”

“It always has been
—
and it will be so again,” Lochvaur said. “And Areyn only suspects the depths of my power.” With that, he shrugged off his cloak.

Fialan stared agape. Lochvaur was nearly healed. The lines were still there
—
ugly weals that crisscrossed his face, but they were healing rapidly. “Your face…”

“The scars will be gone within a few hours,” Lochvaur said. “As I said, like you, I am growing stronger.”

“But the pain…”

“Is inconsequential,” Lochvaur grinned. “Areyn will have to double or triple his efforts to keep me contained. To keep you contained. To control the
Chi’lan
—
the best
Lochvaur
warriors. All that takes power
—
power he can’t use against Rhyn’athel.”

“Or Lachlei,” Fialan stared. “You chose the most powerful
Chi’lan
…”

“That is what Areyn wanted,” the godling said slyly. “With each day, he will weaken…”

“And each day, we grow stronger,” Fialan said.

“I hope you weren’t fond of
Tarentor
, my friend,” Lochvaur said as he drew his cloak and hood around himself once more. “We may yet find a way out of this.”

Fialan turned to leave, but instead, paused. He gazed at the godling thoughtfully.

“You’re curious about something?” Lochvaur asked.

Fialan hesitated. “I was wondering how you died,” he admitted. “You are more than any
Chi’lan
warrior
—
indeed, more than any
Eleion
. It seems impossible to me that you could die.”

 “I
had
a mortal body.”

“Yes, but you’re part of
Athelren,
or the Wyrd…” Fialan felt at a loss for words. “Yes, Eshe came from
Athelren
, but you’re more so…” He shook his head. “I can’t explain it.”

 “It’s that apparent even to my heirs?”

Fialan considered Lochvaur thoughtfully. “It’s apparent to me. How apparent it is to the others, I don’t know. How did you die?”

Lochvaur chuckled. “It seems your curiosity won’t be satisfied easily, even with a straightforward answer. Areyn sent a small army of arch-demons and
Jotunn
to ambush me.”

“But the Truce had already been agreed upon,” Fialan objected. “The
Jotunn
and arch-demons were banished from
Elren
by then.”

Lochvaur laughed. “So, they were
—
or so we thought.” He raised a hand to silence Fialan. “Enough questions, my friend. I must rest, and Eshe is awakening.”

Fialan nodded and left. As he greeted his father, he glanced back at the guarded entrance to Lochvaur’s tent, wondering what exactly Lochvaur was and why Areyn Sehduk feared and hated him so.

CHAPTER Forty-Seven

“What is Lochvaur, Kiril?” Fialan asked as he entered the tent where both Eshe and Kiril had lain comatose. Both were awake now. Eshe sat on her cot, drinking hot tea and eating what appeared to be hard tack. Kiril had drawn his sword and was idly swinging the blade back and forth, testing the new body. Beads of sweat ran down his bronze skin as he swung the broadsword over his head.

Kiril halted in mid-swing and gave Fialan a dark look. “Some way to greet your friends,” he remarked.

“I’m glad you’re ok,” Fialan remarked brusquely. “But my father, Lochalan, already assured me that you’d come around.”

“Well, that’s sensitive,” Eshe replied sarcastically. She bit into the hardtack and spit it out. “Awful. Simply awful.”

Fialan took a slow breath inward. “Eshe, I’m glad you’re ok.”

She glanced at him and then looked away. “Kiril says you asked him to help search for me.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“You shouldn’t have fled.”

“And why not?” Her silver eyes were unreadable.

“You would’ve been flayed.”

“My skin seems remarkably intact,” she replied, holding her hands outstretched for him to examine.

“Lochvaur’s isn’t.”

A silence ensued. Kiril stopped swinging the sword and brought it point down into the dirt. “By Rhyn’athel’s mane,” he whispered.

Eshe blanched and looked away. “That was his choice.”

“Yes, it was his choice,” Fialan said evenly. “And Lochvaur took the punishment meant for us.”

“I didn’t ask him to do that,” she snapped.

“No, you didn’t. But you ought to be more grateful. Kiril and I took a dreadful chance trying to find you. I would’ve taken my punishment gladly if I had a say.”

Eshe stood up and moved to draw her dagger. Fialan caught her arm. “Leave me alone.”

“No,” Fialan said. He eyed the weapon. “If you’re going to draw it,
Chi’lan
, you’d better be prepared to use it.”

“
Chi’lan
,” Eshe spat. “We’re
Braesan
. Undead. Unwanted and unloved by Rhyn’athel.”

“I don’t believe it
—
not for a moment,” Fialan said. “I think your time in
Tarentor
has rotted your mind. You’ve listen too long to the demon’s lies and now you believe them.” He met her gaze coolly. “Listen, Eshe, there’s still hope. There’s always hope
—
even for the damned.”

Eshe’s hand wavered and she dropped the dagger. She collapsed on the cot weeping. “I don’t know anymore, Fialan. I used to be so strong…”

Fialan held her and glanced at Kiril. Kiril nodded once and silently left the tent. He stroked her hair and kissed her. “Eshe, I’m so sorry.”

Eshe dried her eyes on her tunic sleeve and smiled weakly. “It is I who should apologize,” she said. “The demons would’ve flayed us had it not been for Lochvaur.” She shook her head. “It is so like him to take our punishment.”

“Why?” Fialan mused.

“Lochvaur feels responsible for us,” she replied. “He’s a good commander
—
he always has been. He never asked any of us to do something he wouldn’t do himself. And, he always felt that the
Lochvaur
were his children
—
even if we all weren’t descended directly from his bloodline.”

“Do you know what he is, Eshe?” Fialan asked. “A godling, certainly, but I’ve known Laddel and Silvain, and neither is anything like Lochvaur.”

“I don’t know exactly what he is, except he is Rhyn’athel’s son,” Eshe admitted. “He was at least two thousand years old when I was living, but I don’t think there were any
Eleion
alive who knew him that long ago. Perhaps he was one of the original
Eleion
.” She kissed him, and Fialan held her as he stroked her hair. She was so unlike Lachlei, and yet, he sensed a strength within her that had been buried deep. “Why do you ask?”

 “Curiosity, mostly. Why does Areyn fear him?”

 “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Those of us who saw Areyn’s fear the first time took heart. But as the millennia passed, nothing seemed to come of it, and many of us gave up hope. We thought we had deluded ourselves into thinking we saw what we saw.”

“I know what I saw. I saw fear in Areyn’s eyes,” Fialan replied. “Lochvaur spoke of a game he played with Areyn.”

“A game?” Eshe mused. “Then it is a very old game. Areyn Sehduk has been Lochvaur’s enemy as long as I can remember. This contention didn’t start with Lochvaur entering
Tarentor
—
it started well before that.”

“Odd that a mortal would take on one of the most powerful gods. Unless he is something else.” He looked into Eshe’s eyes and smiled. “I can’t be certain, Eshe, but I think Lochvaur has a plan to free us from Areyn’s slavery.”

Her eyes widened. “How?”

Fialan shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I know that with each breath of air, each drop of water, and each morsel of food I take from this world, I become stronger. You’re becoming stronger too
—
perhaps that’s why you fled
—
you felt this world permeating your body. If it continues, we may become part of the world of the living.”

“Then, Areyn will have no control over us,” Eshe said. She hesitated and then tentatively slid her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Desire exploded within Fialan and he took her in his arms, kissing her. Lochvaur was right
—
he was becoming more alive with each moment he spent in the world of the living. The part of him that was living was overwhelming his other senses. He wanted Eshe desperately now.

Suddenly, he pulled away as though invisible hands wrested him away from her. “No!” he shouted. “No! Not now!” He met Eshe’s gaze as he staggered to his feet. “What’s happening?”

“Areyn,” Eshe replied as she stood up. “It’ll hurt less if you don’t fight it.”

“He can control our actions even when he isn’t here?”

“Areyn Sehduk can control everything we do if he so wishes. He’ll force us to fight for him.”

Fialan shook his head. Areyn gave them just enough freedom to believe that they were autonomous, only to rip it away and force them to acknowledge that they were subject to his will. Yet, Lochvaur had hope…

Kiril entered the tent. “The demons told me to get you both,” he said, his jaw clenched as though fighting an invisible force. “The
Silren
army has arrived.”