Lachlei (26 page)

CHAPTER Fifty-Five

The flame raced towards the
Braesan
. The fires spread from one point and fanned out in a giant wall of blue flame. The demons fled from it, but the blaze consumed them. The Undead warriors scrambled to flee the inferno, but it quickly overtook them, too. Screams echoed across the battlefield and then were suddenly silent. The flame took all:
Braesan
, living, and dead. Even the blood-soaked grasses and bodies were consumed.

Fialan turned to Lochvaur and saw the godling grin before the flames hit them. Searing pain shot through Fialan, and he fell unconscious.

*****

Areyn Sehduk stared in shock at the inferno as it raced towards them. He spread his hands and drew on his dark powers, warding off the terrible magic. Imdyr, who still rode beside him, shrieked in terror, threw her hood over her head and pulled it down over her face. The flames lapped at his shield like the sea against the sand before dissipating.

The god of death stared at the devastation. The ground had been burned to the very soil, causing it to blacken. What little of his army survived were
Silren
—
he had used the
Braesan
as his shock troops. No godling could have destroyed his power. No god could have done this
—
save one
—
not even Ni’yah, who was
Athel’cen
. His mind returned to the face of his old adversary, and again to the warrior who rode against him. The magic around the warrior had been impenetrable; his face had been familiar, and yet unrecognizable…

Rhyn’athel
.

The name of the warrior god brought fear into Areyn’s soul. Only Rhyn’athel had enough power to bring pain on the god of death. Only Rhyn’athel could have destroyed Areyn’s Undead like this
—
and yet, Areyn had not been prepared for such a confrontation.

In truth, Areyn Sehduk had not expected Rhyn’athel to enter the war so early. The god of warriors was usually conservative, preferring to bide his time. Areyn had considered Lochvaur’s claims of Rhyn’athel’s return to
Elren
to be nothing more than boasts, but now he began to wonder how much the godling knew. Despite owning Lochvaur’s soul and even forcing his submission, Areyn could not quite control the godling, nor could he read Lochvaur’s mind.

Perhaps it was time to deal with the godling directly.

Areyn gazed at Imdyr, who cowered on her horse beside him. “Well,
Eltar
bitch?”

Imdyr shuddered and drew her hood back tentatively. “It was the god of warriors,” she replied.

“I know that,” he snapped. “How do I stop him?”

Imdyr shook her head. Fear filled her dark eyes. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Rhyn’athel is powerful.”

“But not invincible,” Areyn replied. “It took a lot of power to shatter my defenses and destroy the
Braesan
like that. How much does he have?”

Imdyr eyes became unfocused for a few moments. “Rhyn’athel is more powerful than before,” she said. “But then, so are you.”

“Is he more powerful than I am?” Areyn Sehduk demanded.

Imdyr shook her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “You have grown in power over the years. It appears you are now equally matched.”

“Equally matched,” Areyn Sehduk licked his lips in anticipation. “Perhaps the godling knows more about this.” At that, he summoned Lochvaur, who appeared before both of them.

Lochvaur stood in his new shadow body, arms crossed against his chest, his silver eyes defiant as they met Areyn’s. He was a tall warrior
—
nearly as tall as Rhyn’athel
—
and imposing with broad shoulders, angular features, and piercing eyes. His Sword of Power hung at his side. He was something Areyn had never fully understood
—
not quite
Eleion
, but not quite god. He was the epitome of Rhyn’athel’s arrogance. As long as Lochvaur existed, he would be a constant reminder that Rhyn’athel had been the more powerful god.

“What is this creature doing here?” Lochvaur said as he turned his baleful gaze on Imdyr.

Imdyr reined her horse backward in fear. Areyn raised his hand in a motion to stop her. “She serves at my whim.”

“Then she is a fool,” Lochvaur spat. He turned to her. “You’ll regret your decision, dark one,” he said. “Though you’ve already twisted the Wyrd to your purposes, haven’t you? I know what you carry.”

Imdyr grew pale. “This is a dangerous creature,” she said to Areyn. “Why do you insist on using him?”

Areyn Sehduk had watched the interplay with interest. Lochvaur had seen something he had not. “Perhaps because the son of Rhyn’athel may still have some use to me,” he replied.

“He will lead you down false paths.”

“Really?” Areyn smiled. “I never said I trusted him.” He turned to Lochvaur. “What is Rhyn’athel’s plan?”

“Why don’t you ask Rhyn’athel, yourself?”

Areyn resisted the urge to use his mace to smash the godling’s sardonic smile off his face. “Because it’s easier to ask you. You can’t lie to me. Why is Rhyn’athel here in
Elren
?”

“Because you’re here,” Lochvaur replied. “You didn’t think Fialan’s death would go unnoticed?”

Areyn frowned. “It was the damn wolf-cur, wasn’t it?”

Lochvaur grinned. “Ni’yah? He had something to do with it, yes.”

Areyn’s gaze narrowed. “You know nothing?” he demanded, circling the godling slowly with his horse.

Lochvaur stood rigid. “Why do you think Rhyn’athel would share his plans with me?”

“Because you are his son.”

“Do you think my father would give the enemy easy access to such information?”

“I think you know more than you say.” Areyn Sehduk considered Lochvaur thoughtfully. The godling showed no sign of fear. “I think you’re holding something back.”

“How can that be?” Lochvaur replied. “I can’t lie
—
you’ve said so yourself. You own my very soul
—
I am the good little soldier who obeys your orders…”

Areyn’s mace came crashing down. In a split second, Lochvaur had drawn his Sword of Power and parried. They stood for a moment, eyes locked, before Areyn broke the weapons’ contact. “You task me.”

“You wish the truth? You know I can’t lie under your power.”

“The truth? What truth?”

“You shouldn’t have taken me,” Lochvaur remarked, sheathing his sword. “I’m a danger to you, and yet you continue to keep me in chains while I wait and watch patiently for you to falter. Every day I plan for your destruction, but the Wyrd hasn’t shown me the way yet. So, I bide my time and wait. You know I will destroy you, and yet you give me the means of doing so. It would be better if you freed me and sent me back to the Hall of the Gods to await the end of time when you and I will meet. Each day, I learn more and more what you are and hate you for it. Each day, I grow stronger with the knowledge I obtain. It won’t be Rhyn’athel who will destroy you, Areyn. It will be me.” He smiled coldly. “All it will take is one slip…”

Areyn’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard enough of your prophecies…”

“You could stop that fate, if you so chose,” Lochvaur said. “But you won’t because of your arrogance and your hatred of me and what the
Eleion
and
Ansgar
stand for. We can no more be destroyed than
Athel’cen
, and for that we are punished. You torment me to soothe your own pride.”

“I’ve heard enough of your prattle,” Areyn Sehduk growled.

A slight smile played across the godling’s lips. He turned to Imdyr. “The death god is a poor choice for lovers,” he remarked. “He despises you and all that you stand for.”

“Silence,” Areyn snapped. “Prepare your warriors
—
we’ll be attacking Caer Lochvaren within the week.”

Lochvaur’s smile was mocking. “As you wish, my lord,” he said as he vanished.

“Caer Lochvaren?” Imdyr repeated after the godling vanished. “It will take months to siege their fortress. It’s winter, too
—
we won’t be able to launch an effective campaign.”

“No need,” Areyn said. “I have work for you to do.”

“Work?” she repeated.

“Work that will bring the destruction of Caer Lochvaren.”

CHAPTER Fifty-Six

Fialan awoke to the dim red sun of
Tarentor
. The ruddy sky stretched overhead as he lay on cold sand. The wind howled over the desert hills and Fialan knew it would soon be dusk. He groaned as he lifted his head. This time, his body ached all over. He felt a nudge as someone stood over him.
Tarentor
was so dark compared to
Elren
that it took time for his eyes to adjust. “Eshe?” he asked.

“I don’t think Eshe would appreciate that.” Kiril chuckled as he offered Fialan his hand. “She’s much better looking than I am.”

Fialan laughed and then groaned as the big man helped him up. “My head aches,” Fialan said as he gazed at the bronze warrior. He looked around and saw that other warriors lay across the hills
—
thousands of them. Many were stirring as Fialan was, blinking in the dim light.

“Rhyn’athel doesn’t hold back much when he decides to unleash his power,” Kiril remarked.

“Rhyn’athel? That was Rhyn’athel?”

“Who else could destroy the entire
Braesan
with a thought?” the
Shara’kai
replied.

“Fialan?” Eshe’s voice came from a few yards away.

Fialan blinked. “Here
—
Eshe!” he shouted. His eyes were still unaccustomed to the dark world, but he could see her shapely form as she came towards him.

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. “I missed you,” she said. He responded to her kiss, but then Lachlei’s image still burned in his mind.

Fialan pushed her away. “No, Eshe, this isn’t right,” he said. “Lachlei…”

Eshe shook her head. “Very well,” she said. She smiled sadly and turned away.

“Eshe…” he began and gripped her arm.

“Fialan
—
I can’t compete with the living,” she said. “As long as we continue to fight in
Elren
, you may see your wife again. It is torture, Fialan, for as long as she lives, you can never have her.” She freed herself and walked away.

“Do you want my advice?” Kiril asked as Fialan watched her help other warriors recover.

“No.” He sighed. “Where’s Lochvaur?”

“Areyn summoned him,” Kiril replied. “No doubt to make him pay for Rhyn’athel’s attack.” He paused as he watched Fialan gaze on Eshe. “You’ll get my advice anyway, first-blood. I think you’re a fool.”

Fialan met Kiril’s gaze. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

The
Shara’kai
grinned. “No, but I’m good at giving it. She loves you.”

Fialan shook his head. “Damn it, Kiril, I love Lachlei.”

“And I loved Samara, but death got in the way.” He shrugged. “Lochvaur tells me we may die dozens of times before the war ends. You’re no longer of Lachlei’s world anymore than she is of this one.”

“Wise words, if there ever were,” came Lochvaur’s voice. They turned to see the godling standing beside them.

“Lochvaur
—
what happened?” Fialan asked.

“My father lost his temper,” the godling grinned. “We should have a few days of rest before the demons come back for us.”

“This is hardly rest,” Fialan remarked, looking at the bleak landscape.

“It will have to do,” Lochvaur said. “We’ll be sent back to attack Caer Lochvaren by the end of the week.”

“Is Areyn growing soft?” Kiril said scornfully.

Lochvaur chuckled. “No, the rest is not for us
—
it’s for him. Areyn lost quite a bit of power with Rhyn’athel’s attack.”

“Won’t that mean he’ll use our energy to sustain him?” Eshe asked, shivering.

“Perhaps,” Lochvaur said. “But I suspect he’d prefer the life force of the living over us. He did receive some energy when we all lost our lives, but it won’t be enough. Areyn will need to feed again.”

“Then he has been weakened,” Fialan said. “Surely, this is the time for Rhyn’athel to strike.”

“I wish it were,” said Lochvaur. “But Rhyn’athel’s display had its price. I suspect that flash of anger took much from Rhyn’athel, although he might not admit it. He had to overcome Areyn’s magic
—
no mean feat.”

 “Should you be saying this?” Fialan asked.

Lochvaur shrugged. “I’m telling you something Areyn Sehduk already knows. An
Athel’cen’s
powers are not boundless
—
there are things beyond their abilities, albeit few. What looked relatively effortless wasn’t. Both Areyn Sehduk and Rhyn’athel suffered for it.”

Fialan stared at the godling in amazement. He never thought that an
Athel’cen
might tire or require rest. Yet, Areyn required energy from the dead
—
did Rhyn’athel use the energy from the living? The thought intrigued him. If gods required nourishment, then perhaps they were not so different from their creations. The
Eleion
and
Ansgar
were perhaps closer to the
Athel’cen
than he thought. “How much did Rhyn’athel lose?”

Lochvaur shook his head. “I don’t know, but it was probably not enough to worry about. However Areyn is growing in strength because of the dead. With each death, Areyn becomes powerful.”

“But Areyn destroyed the Nine Worlds
—
wouldn’t that have made him more powerful?” Fialan asked.

Lochvaur smiled. “It did
—
and he still couldn’t defeat Rhyn’athel and Ni’yah when they combined forces. Even with all that death and destruction, Areyn Sehduk couldn’t defeat them.” He paused. “But enough of this. Let’s return to my fortress, if the demons haven’t smashed it to rubble. We’ll need rest for the upcoming battles.”

*****

Lachlei rode silently beside Cahal. She now had her own horse
—
one of her
Chi’lan
had found a steed whose rider had perished. While Cahal urged both horses forward, she had turned around when Rhyn sent the terrible wall of flames into the
Braesan
. Their horses had spooked, as had the others, forcing them to flee in the opposite direction. When they both finally controlled the warhorses, they had turned and seen a glowing warrior on a hill, sword drawn, with fire pouring from his steed’s hooves. The flames had formed a wall of flame that rose hundreds of feet into the sky. She gasped as she saw tentacle-like flames wrap around the incoming demons and pull them into the fire. The roar was deafening as the fire rolled over the
Braesan
.

Part of Lachlei screamed as she watched the Undead
Chi’lan
disappear within the wall of flame. She knew Fialan was among them. Although logically Lachlei knew Rhyn had to destroy Areyn’s oncoming army, she was aware she was watching Fialan’s death.

What had she seen exactly?
Lachlei wondered.
What mortal could call that kind of power to bear on an army?

The
Chi’lan
and
Laddel
army had stopped in their retreat, stunned by the firestorm as it rolled over the valley. Many stood in awe as the final traces of blue flames burned themselves out along the grasslands. Hushed whispers ran through the warriors as Rhyn and Telek rode side-by-side from the knoll to rejoin the army.

Lachlei looked at Rhyn. The North Marches
Chi’lan
seemed unusually pale and subdued. No longer the glowing warrior, but one who looked strained and weary, he refused to meet her gaze. The
Laddel
warrior, Telek, rode on the opposite side. She could see that Telek and Rhyn were conversing, but could not hear their words. Telek looked up at her, and Lachlei was struck again at the similarity between them.

Concentrating, Lachlei found she could understand the conversation. The words were not quite
Eleion
, but were of the ancient tongue of the gods, which the
Eleion
language came from. She frowned. Very few knew that tongue
—
her mother, Ladara, had taught her some of the
Athel’cen
tongue, but she had never heard it spoken so fluidly before.

“…it should be possible for us to reach Caer Lochvaren before Areyn has recovered,” Telek was saying. “How badly do you think you damaged him?”

“Enough,” Rhyn said. “It should give us sufficient time.”

“How are
you
doing?”

Rhyn paused. He looked up as if for the first time seeing Lachlei there. “I thought you cloaked our conversation…”

“I did…” Telek began and then turned and saw Lachlei. “You understand me?”

“I do,” Lachlei replied.

Telek began to chuckle, but Rhyn held him with a look. “Twice first-blood,” Telek said, speaking in
Eleion
again. “We’ll discuss this later.” He rode off.

Lachlei gazed at Rhyn. “What were you so eager to hide from me? That you wounded Areyn Sehduk? Is that even possible?”

Rhyn hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said.

“What did I see back there?” Lachlei asked.

Rhyn now met her gaze. “You saw what you saw, Lachlei. I make no excuse or apology for what I’ve done. I sent the
Braesan
back to
Tarentor
.”

Lachlei stared at him for some time, even though he did not elaborate. Rhyn turned his horse southwest and pressed it into a walk. Cahal looked sideways at Lachlei, who nodded. Cahal turned and barked orders to the warriors to follow. They rode southwest for miles over the rolling hills until the sun climbed high above them. Only then did Rhyn turn to her as he reined his steed and gave the orders for the army to halt. “We should camp here,” he said at last.

They were on the northern edge of Darkling Plain. As far as Lachlei could see, it would be a perfect trap to leave them exposed on the plains. “Wouldn’t we be safer in the timber?”

“Normally, I would agree, but today, no,” Rhyn replied. “We’ll care for our wounded here
—
tomorrow we must make for Caer Lochvaren in haste.”

“But Areyn’s army…” Lachlei began.

Rhyn shook his head. “We’ll be safe until we reach Caer Lochvaren. We need rest,” he said. He met her gaze. “I need rest.”