Lachlei (38 page)

CHAPTER Eighty

Rhyn’athel’s gaze suddenly became unfocused. There it was again
—
something elusive and yet steady. He could sense it probing his army, looking for tactical advantage anywhere it could find it. It was indefinable, shifting and changing with each shield he reinforced. His frustration built as the magic discovered apparent chinks in his impenetrable defenses.

Lachlei glanced at him. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

Rhyn’athel turned to her, anger on his face. “There’s something out there that can sense through my defenses,” he said. “It’s almost as if…” He paused and shook his head. “It’s almost as if I’m fighting a Wyrd-blood.” He gazed on Lachlei thoughtfully.

“A Wyrd-blood? You mean a god?”

Rhyn’athel smiled as realization crept into his eyes. “Of course,” he murmured. “The Wyrd-blood will hide from me, but not from you.” He paused. “Lachlei, I must use you to find the Wyrd-blood who is working for Areyn Sehduk.”

“What must I do?” Lachlei asked.

“Let me into your mind,” he said.

Lachlei nodded and at once felt Rhyn’athel’s presence inside her thoughts. She nearly became overwhelmed with his presence. He had not needed permission to enter her mind, as he swept aside her barriers as casually as she might bat away an insect. Lachlei found herself blending into the god’s mind
—
it was terrifying, and yet exhilarating. It was as though he had mind-linked with her, but, it was more than a simple mind-link.

Lachlei/Rhyn’athel began to search for the elusive Wyrd-blood. Lachlei could sense it probing her mind around the edges. She fought to shield herself, but felt Rhyn’athel’s power gently hold her firm.

Let it sense you,
the warrior god spoke.

What did Rhyn intend to do?

Suddenly, Lachlei felt a flash of power
—
like a wave surge crash around them. She shivered as she saw Rhyn’athel bare his teeth and his eyes snap into focus.

I have you now…

*****

Imdyr screamed and grasped her temples. She fell from the demon steed and thrashed in terrible pain. “No! No! No!” she cried. “Stop him! Stop him!”

Areyn watched implacably as she writhed before him. Several
Eltar
leapt to her aid, trying to hold her as she shook uncontrollably. Then, Imdyr became still. “Bring her to me,” Areyn said.

The
Eltar
dragged Imdyr before him. She was sobbing hysterically. “He found me!” She gurgled as she met Areyn’s gaze with her own wild eyes.

“Who found you?” Areyn asked.

Suddenly, Imdyr became rigid. A light that was not there before shone in her eyes. She opened her mouth, but her voice was not her own. “So, Areyn, you’ve given up your disguises,” she said.

Areyn quavered and then steeled his gaze. “Rhyn’athel.”

Imdyr smiled sardonically. “I didn’t think any of the Wyrd-blood survived our last encounter. Using a child to find me
—
I thought you were more powerful than that.”

Areyn’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t need the bitch to defeat you, Rhyn’athel. I have enough power and warriors enough to destroy your tiny army.”

“Foolish words spoken by a coward,” Imdyr said. “We’ll see how brave you are when you’re writhing on
Teiwaz’s
blade.”

Areyn backhanded Imdyr, throwing her to the ground. “Get her out of my sight!” he snarled.

Imdyr rose and shuddered. She fled on foot, terrified of the death god. Areyn turned to the shrinking
Eltar
. “Prepare for battle.”

*****

“That was cruel,” Lachlei said, gazing at Rhyn’athel. The link she had felt between them severed abruptly, leaving her empty and confused. “That poor girl…”

His eyes were emotionless. “I am not here for kindness,” he said. “The
Eltar
girl was Areyn’s tool to get to me
—
to see where he could not. I had to make her useless to him.” He smiled grimly. “You, most of all, should feel no pity for Imdyr. She would’ve given you up to Areyn had you not escaped.” He shook his head. “I should’ve realized she was a Wyrd-blood when you mentioned her name because I couldn’t see her. Only Wyrd-bloods have the power to evade a god’s powers.”

“What is Wyrd-blood?” she asked.

“Several millennia ago, the goddess Fala took Areyn as a lover.”

“Fala took that demon as a lover?” Lachlei asked incredulously.

“Areyn was not always evil, beloved,” Rhyn’athel replied. “And he is a powerful god in his own right.”

Lachlei shuddered at the thought.

“Fala gave birth to twins
—
Eltar and Mai
—
the founders of those kindreds.”

“But shouldn’t they have been gods?” Lachlei asked.

“They should have, but Fala was one of the ancient ones, the
Laeca
,
—
the ones that came before the
Athel’cen
. Fala’s offspring were mortal — called Wyrd-blood. Not quite gods, but their powers could circumvent some of our own. Areyn and Fala used them during the wars. The girl is the last of that line.”

“Not quite gods? Demons, then?”

Rhyn’athel shrugged. “You could call them demons, but I’ve considered them akin to my
Eleion
.”

“What happened to them? Did you destroy them?” Lachlei gazed at Rhyn’athel, whose emotions were now unreadable.

He shook his head. “No, though Ni’yah wanted me to do so. Perhaps I should’ve listened to him because the Wyrd twists itself into new patterns with each choice I made. Eltar, Fala, and their kindreds joined me against their sire.”

“They fought on our side?”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Rhyn’athel smiled sadly. “They paid with their lives. In the Battle of the Nine Worlds, Areyn slew all Wyrd-blood, save Lochvaur and Laddel
—
or so we had thought. One must have survived.”

“Lochvaur? Lochvaur is Wyrd-blood?” Lachlei asked. “I thought he was first-blood.”

“He is that, too, and much more,” Rhyn’athel replied.

Ni’yah rode up beside them before Lachlei could respond. “Areyn’s troops are advancing.” He grinned. “Whatever you’ve done, you’ve angered him.”

Rhyn’athel gazed at the oncoming lines. “Good. His temper is his downfall.” He turned to Lachlei. “I realize it is your place to make the speech before a battle, beloved,” he began.

Lachlei laughed. “That is because we have had not had you lead us.”

“Indeed,” he said with a wry smile. He rode out in front of the troops and drew
Teiwaz
, the Sword of Power. At once, Rhyn’athel became the fiery god she had seen before. How easily it was for him to shift between the two, she thought. The
Chi’lan
and their horses stood steady, but there was an awed murmur throughout the lines.

“My
Lochvaur
and
Laddel
!” he shouted, and his voice thundered over the land. “Areyn rides towards us, leading his vast army. He scorns your very existence and seeks to destroy you. And yet, Areyn knows naught of what truly you are created from. For the
Lochvaur
are my own, just as the
Laddel
are Ni’yah’s. Each one of you is a part of me. Each time Areyn takes you he robs from me…” He paused and his gaze settled on Lachlei. “No longer.”

Ni’yah broke into a grin. “At last!” he said in a low voice that only Lachlei could hear.

Lachlei glanced at Ni’yah.
What could this mean?
she wondered, not daring to hope…

“We fight today, not just for our lives, but for our futures,” he said. “Mortal you are, and mortal you will be, but it will be my choice now, not his. You will fight today, but you do so for your freedom. Freedom from Areyn!”

The warriors banged their swords against their shields. “Rhyn’athel! Rhyn’athel!” they chanted.

“Fight with me, die for me, and you’ll be rewarded,” Rhyn’athel said. “Live and you will see a greater world!”

“Rhyn’athel! Rhyn’athel!”

Rhyn’athel rode back into the lines. “They’re at the bluffs,” he said, turning to Lachlei. “Give the command to fire.”

CHAPTER Eighty-One

Areyn’s army had halted its advance. The rolling fields of Darkling Plain had given way to a bluff that rose from several hills and joined the foothills of the Lochvaren Mountains. The bluff wasn’t steep, but its rocky slopes and winding cart path made for a difficult charge.

 Areyn Sehduk rode forward on his demon steed. The
Eltar
and
Silren
parted in sheer terror, but the dead
Chi’lan
warriors held their ground. Their silver eyes gazed at the death god in contempt
—
there was no fear in the
Braesan
. Fialan sat on his steed beside Eshe and watched as the death god approached Lochvaur, who stood beside his charger. The son of Rhyn’athel met the death god’s gaze fearlessly.

“Why have you halted?” Areyn demanded, dismounting the demon steed. “The
Lochvaur
are up there.”

“I will not lead them,” Lochvaur replied. His silver eyes held contempt for the god.

“You
will
not?” Areyn demanded. “You have no will save mine. You do as I command.”

Lochvaur laughed. “Rhyn’athel has suffered your insolence enough, as have I. Soon you will have no control over us.”

Eshe turned to Fialan. “What is he doing? Baiting Areyn?”

Fialan shook his head in wonder. “I don’t know,” he whispered.

Areyn raised his mace to strike Lochvaur, but the godling caught his wrist. “I wouldn’t be too eager to inflict punishment, Areyn,” Lochvaur said menacingly. “My father will take each blow out of your own hide.”

“You will do as I say,” Areyn growled, but lowered the weapon.

“For the time being,” Lochvaur said. “But we are walking into a trap.”

“A trap?” Areyn laughed. “Your sire has only sixty-thousand troops. I hardly call it a trap. Attack now!”

Lochvaur smiled coldly. “As you wish, my lord,” he said sardonically. “It will be a pleasure to die for you one last time.”

*****

Lachlei brandished her sword and rode out, her gaze on the approaching army below. “Archers
—
Ready!”

The longbow men nocked their arrows and pulled back. “Mark your targets!” she heard Cahal order them.

There were Lochvaur among Areyn’s troops,
she reminded herself.
Lochvaur such as Fialan…

“Steady!” she shouted as she saw the
Braesan
charge the hill.

Forgive me, my old friends,
she thought.

Trust me,
came Rhyn’athel’s voice in her head.

Her face became grim. “Fire!” she shouted.

A maelstrom of arrows flew overhead. They roared as they flew towards their targets. Wave after wave of arrows arced across the sky and slaughtered the charging warriors. Lachlei watched in amazement, half expecting fire to come raining down on her troops as it had at Caer Lochvaren.

Yet when the flames came, they came not from Areyn, but from Rhyn’athel. Blue ethereal flame shot across the sky and arced into Areyn’s army. Areyn’s warriors fell as they charged.
Braesan
,
Silren
, and
Eltar
bodies lay in piles as they fell and still, they came.

Lachlei stared at the bodies and the fire in wonder. She turned and saw Rhyn’athel smiling as he watched the decimation of Areyn’s army. “Where is Areyn’s counter?” she asked.

“Where indeed?” Rhyn’athel chuckled. He glanced at Ni’yah knowingly as though they shared a private joke.

“Take away his source of power,” said Ni’yah calmly, “and he has naught to strike with. Ironically, he is doing it to himself.”

*****

Arrows hailed around Areyn Sehduk’s army, cutting down the living and dead alike. Adamantine tipped, the arrows killed demon as well as
Eleion
; dead as well as living. The arrows felled the
Braesan;
their bodies disintegrated in the air.

Fialan and Eshe rode forward, despite the hail of arrows. Fialan knew he could not disobey the death god’s commands, and yet, he stopped and watched as the battle commenced. Something was wrong. With each dead soldier, there should have been two to take their place
—
and yet, the bodies were piling fast. The demons were coming through the ranks, and the arrows cut them down, too.

“Fialan!” cried Eshe as she fell from her horse, an arrow piercing her chest.

“Eshe!” Fialan cried. Knowing the pain he would suffer, Fialan dismounted and ran to her. He held her in his arms. She was coughing blood.

“Fialan,” she said hoarsely. “Something is wrong.”

“You’re wounded,” Fialan said, looking at arrow protruding from her chest. “If I only I could heal you…”

“No, something is wrong with Areyn
—
don’t you feel it?” she said.

Fialan looked up. The numbers of advancing troops were thinning. “There are no replacements.” He grinned. “We should be regenerating…”

“But, we’re not,” Eshe said triumphantly. “Rhyn’athel has broken Areyn’s power.”

Fialan paused. “But, then you will die…”

“We are already dead, Fialan.” With that, the life force within the shell vanished, and she crumbled into dust.

Fialan bowed his head and wept. He never saw the flames as they engulfed him.

*****

Areyn snarled in rage as the ethereal flames raced down the bluff towards the
Braesan
and the other warriors, powerless to stop it. Areyn drew on the energy of the dead, shielding part of the army against the torrential flames. Yet, with their deaths, there was nothing. Their life forces no longer fed him. Frantically, Areyn tried to draw his soldiers from his world, only to find the gateway shut. The shield collapsed, and the ethereal fire consumed all in its path.

The living
Eleion
broke ranks and fled in terror. Only the demons remained. Areyn drew on their dark power, such as it was, and established a shield. He turned to a demon captain. “Flank them!” he shouted. “Take five thousand and crush his army while I attack with the rest.”

Areyn watched as the demon captain left. Rhyn’athel and Ni’yah had somehow effectively broken his link between his own world and this one. And his own dead were given him nothing in power
—
nor had the living, for that matter. It was as though his power source had simply vanished. Without the dead to feed from, Areyn was weakening. He would have to return to his realm, accepting defeat once again.

Unless…

There was still the
Fyr
—
the Eternal Fire.