Lachlei (9 page)

CHAPTER Eighteen

Imdyr lay naked against the cold, stone altar of Fala and closed her eyes. For nearly a month, Imdyr had lain against the winged goddess’s altar, searching for some sign. Imdyr had been the goddess’s high priestess for five years; Fala had chosen her when she was twelve after the old priestess had died.

Long raven-black hair framed an angular face. Her eyes were obsidian black, contrasting sharply with sallow skin. Her thin body showed her ribs below her small, firm breasts, and her hip bones protruded. She was like all those born of the
Eltar
kindred, tall, lithe, and fair skinned. She had been beautiful at one time, but the darkness in the temple had made her pale and emaciated. Even so, the power still remained.

Imdyr was first-blood. She came from the line of Fala when the goddess had walked among mortals before the wars between the gods. The
Eltar
and the
Falarel
had been her kindreds, and yet, they could not gain any greatness over the others.

Where was the promise of Fala?
Imdyr demanded. To her demands came no reply.

Imdyr had waited
—
in vain. Fala no longer held power in the Fifth World. She was a dark goddess who hated both the gods of light and gods of darkness, favoring her own magic. For this, Fala was an outcast
—
eschewed by both sides. Her kindreds weak and forgotten.

A surge of power ran through her, and Imdyr sat up. Reaching out with her Sight, she saw a dark figure on a horse
—
but it was no horse. Within her mind’s eye, Imdyr saw the slaughter unfold. Entranced, she felt horrified at first, but she could not tear herself away from the vision. The dark rider came forward, wielding his blade.

She saw a village in her vision and watched as it burst into flames. Pale warriors
—
Silren
, by their looks
—
attacked with a blood-frenzy. Some of their victims ran, but a few stood and fought. The warriors had red-gold manes
—
Lochvaur
. But, there were too many
Silren
and the
Lochvaur
were soon overwhelmed.

Imdyr found herself standing on the battlefield, the cold wind whipping across her body. She shivered, but not because she was cold. The carnage excited her
—
she could taste the blood in her mouth. Then the dark warrior rode towards her. Imdyr could see his face clearly as he turned his demon-mount aside. He was a
Silren
with ice-blue eyes.
Silren
, and yet, not
Silren
.

Imdyr smiled. She looked into his pale eyes. “I know who you are,” she whispered. “Areyn Sehduk.”

*****

“It was Areyn,” Ni’yah said, his brass eyes hard. “He mocks me and he mocks you.” He stood on the parapets of Caer Lochvaren next to Rhyn’athel as the warrior god gazed over the forests in the dawn’s light. The warming sun’s rays brought little comfort to either of them. To the casual observer, they looked like two
Eleion
soldiers conversing
—
not two of the most powerful gods in the Nine Worlds.

“I know,” Rhyn’athel said, his voice heavy. “I should’ve seen it
—
in fact, I felt Areyn’s shield earlier before the attack, only I was too preoccupied. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“What indeed? The Truce is in shambles.”

“No thanks to Areyn.”

“And no thanks to you
—
or me,” Rhyn’athel said. “We’ve all violated it, despite our intentions.”

“Areyn has slaughtered an entire village, and you’re worried about
your
violation?”

Rhyn’athel shook his head grimly. “I had hoped to avoid this war, and yet, it seems inevitable. Total, utter destruction
—
as it was in the last war.”

“But we won.”

Rhyn’athel chuckled ruefully. “Did we? Yes, I suppose in a way, you could call it a victory. But what did we accomplish?”

“The
Jotunn
and demons no longer walk this world or any of our worlds,” Ni’yah replied. “The
Eleion
live here instead of Areyn’s spawn.”

“But as long as Areyn Sehduk exists, there will be no peace,” Rhyn’athel replied. “And he is an
Athel’cen
, a god from the Wyrd
—
as you and I are. We can’t be destroyed. You know as well as I do that the Truce was the only way to preserve what little we’ve created. And now, that’s gone.”
Silence ensued.

“He has a demon with him,” Ni’yah ventured.

Rhyn’athel smiled grimly. “That news does not surprise me.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the parapet. “Areyn is a coward
—
he will not confront me directly because he knows he will lose. So, he takes the guise of a warrior to destroy my kindred and my power in this world, hoping to catch me unawares.”

“But now he’s gotten bold,” Ni’yah remarked. “Bold enough to taunt me.”

“Arrogance,” Rhyn’athel replied. “The blood-feeding does that to him. Areyn will regret it in a few days when his power levels out.”

“What do we do?”

Rhyn’athel made no response. Instead, he gazed below into the bailey. Ni’yah followed his gaze until it rested on Lachlei who had entered the inner courtyards. Ni’yah grinned. “She is very beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Damn you for bringing me here,” Rhyn’athel said. “You knew all the time she would be my weakness.”

Ni’yah shrugged. “I knew you wouldn’t let her die
—
especially now that the Wyrd is weaving a different pattern.”

Rhyn’athel took a deep breath, his eyes becoming glassy as he concentrated his powers on the Sight. It was harder to do, now that he had a mortal body, but not impossible. The silver threads of the future shimmered in his vision, and he stared as he saw the path they would take. His eyes snapped back into focus. “I’ve changed the Wyrd with my presence.”

“Can’t be helped,” Ni’yah said dismissively. “Whenever any of the gods of the Wyrd enter this world, it forever changes the Wyrd’s pattern.”

“You knew this and yet you continue to meddle,” Rhyn’athel accused.

Ni’yah shrugged. “I hate knowing everything that happens
—
it makes for a very boring life as a god. Besides, it’s not just me, now
—
it’s you and Areyn. You have the strongest link to the Wyrd, which is why it is so interesting to see it change around Lachlei…”

“Lachlei,” Rhyn’athel repeated distractedly. There were two paths now
—
both would shift the balance of power. Both hinged on Lachlei.

“You know that not everything is set and the Wyrd doesn’t reveal the full future. But Lachlei will…”

Rhyn’athel’s face became stern. “Speak of this to no one.”

“Areyn may learn of this,” Ni’yah said. “Areyn will seek Lachlei out, himself.”

Rhyn’athel could feel his face flush with rage, but he held it back. “Not while I am still the warrior god.”

Ni’yah nodded. “So, what will you do?”

“Lachlei wants me to teach her how to kill a demon.”

“She knows?” Ni’yah gazed at his brother. “Did you…?”

The warrior god shook his head. “Lachlei sensed Areyn, herself. The slaughter woke her.”

“I only thought godlings like Lochvaur and Laddel could recognize demons.”

“Lachlei can.” Rhyn’athel’s gaze drifted back to her. “The
Silren
are under Areyn’s power. If the
Lochvaur
fall, so will the other kindreds.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Stop Areyn here and now,” Rhyn’athel said. “Lachlei will be my champion.”

Ni’yah grinned. “I knew you wouldn’t stand by idly.”

Rhyn’athel nodded. “As much as I hate to admit it, you were right.” He paused. “We will need more than the
Lochvaur
, though. Your son, Laddel is still alive?”

“He is,” Ni’yah said. “And the
Laddel
are a strong kindred
—
one of the few who use longbows. I will speak with Laddel, if you wish.”

Rhyn’athel nodded. “Do that. And speak to Elisila about her
Silren
…”

Ni’yah smirked. “You wouldn’t wish to talk with her yourself?”

The warrior god glared.

Ni’yah chuckled. “I thought not,” he said and vanished.

CHAPTER Nineteen

Eshe led Fialan towards the cliffs. She had agreed to take him to Lochvaur and for the first time, seemed actually cheered by his presence. “Lochvaur has a fortification within the cliffs, themselves,” she said as they walked.

“Fortification? Is there are need for a fortress here?” Fialan asked, looking around at the bleak landscape.

Eshe laughed; her voice almost musical in that dismal place. Fialan smiled. “By the gods, no!” she said. “If the demons want you, no tiny fortress would keep them at bay.”

“Are there any animals here?”

Eshe shook her head. “No
—
no need to feed us. These shells Areyn has given us don’t require food or water.”

“Or sleep?”

Eshe shook her head. “Except when Areyn…” She shuddered.

“Why would Lochvaur build a fortress?” Fialan asked, changing the subject back to avoid the topic.

“Most of the dead thought it was foolish,” said Eshe. “But, perhaps it’s a way to show defiance against Areyn. Or maybe it was simply something to take up time. Regardless, it has had an effect of sorts. Areyn won’t come near Lochvaur.”

Fialan laughed. “He won’t? I wonder why?”

“Lochvaur is part Rhyn’athel,” she said. “Areyn won’t touch Lochvaur’s power or he’ll poison himself.”

“I thought you said that first-bloods no longer have their powers.”

“They don’t,” she said. “But a godling is different, and even though Lochvaur has no power here, Areyn fears him.”

The swollen red sun made its way slowly across the sky. Despite the shock of discovering he was dead, Fialan was glad he didn’t need food or rest. He guessed by the sun’s movement that
Tarentor’s
day was much longer than the
Elren’s
day. The barren plains became rolling hills and still, they walked. He could see the mountains loom ahead like sharp, jagged teeth.

“There isn’t much to build with around here,” Fialan remarked.

Eshe chuckled. “Just twisted ironwood and rock
—
and the damn saw grass. I hate the stuff! It’ll cut through everything except armor.”

Fialan laughed with her. “Are all Areyn’s worlds this dismal?”

Eshe grinned. “They say he made this world especially for Rhyn’athel’s warriors,” she said. “He’s not fond of the
Chi’lan
.”

“But he has other worlds.”

“Oh yes
—
that’s no lie,” she said. “I hear
Jotnar
is similar enough to our
Elren
, but it is colder. And of course, it’s the land of the
Jotunn
, the frost giants.”

“You were killed by a
Jotunn
,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “Nasty creatures
—
I supposed you’ve never seen one.”

Fialan shook his head.

“Well, that’s one good thing that came from the Truce, I suppose. They used to inhabit our world.”

“I hear they were tough to kill,” Fialan said.

Eshe chuckled. “You’re talkative for a dead man,” she said. “This has probably been the most I’ve said since I’ve been here.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’re different. Most when they realize they’re dead are resigned to it. They want to see their parents or dead loved ones or whatever…”

 “I’ve made my peace with the dead long ago,” he said. “And if what you say is true, I have a long time to see my dead loved ones. My concern, Eshe, is with the living.”

Eshe paused and considered him thoughtfully. “You are different, Fialan. Perhaps I was hasty to think otherwise.”

*****

The swollen red sun was slipping below the horizon when Eshe led Fialan into a red canyon. The canyon led along the ruddy desert cliffs where a fortress cut from stone sat hewn from the sandstone walls. Fialan stared at the structure in awe. A keep, fortified by a large curtain wall, complete with defensible towers, sat in the high cliffs. It was as large as Caer Lochvaren.

“How long did it take to build that?” he asked.

Eshe shrugged. “When you have all the time in the Nine Worlds, what does it matter?”

“But how did they get the tools?”

Eshe shook her head. “I don’t know, but the sandstone is soft. It wouldn’t survive a siege.”

“Still, wouldn’t it give people hope?”

“I suppose it gives hope to some,” Eshe said slowly. “But most feel it is folly.”

Fialan laughed. “A fool’s fight, eh? Then, no doubt you consider me a fool.”

Eshe shook her head. “I think your quest may be in vain, Fialan, but I don’t consider you a fool.”

As they walked towards the cliff, they saw that stairs had been painstakingly hewn in the red cliff face to provide a way up towards the fortress. The trail crisscrossed the face of the rock, with many switchbacks that allowed a steep but traversable climb. Fialan hesitated as Eshe grasped the handholds that led to the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” Eshe asked, glancing behind.

“There are no guards.”

“Who would you guard against?” Eshe asked. “The demons can come and go as they please, but they don’t enter this place. Those who seek refuge
—
if you want to call it that
—
are welcome since they are fellow
Eleion
. Most who come here are
Chi’lan
, but there are a few
Lochvaur
soldiers and some from other kindreds. Mostly first-bloods, like yourself, but there are many of common birth.”

“Were you first-blood?”

 “Do I look first-blood?”

“I don’t know
—
I didn’t know first-bloods had a
look
about them,” Fialan said.

“They do,” Eshe said. “When you see Lochvaur, you’ll see what I mean.” She started climbing.

“Then you’ve stayed in the fortress for some time,” Fialan said as he climbed behind her.

Eshe stepped onto the stairs and frowned. “Yes, I did.” She climbed the stairs until it leveled out onto a shelf. “Aren’t you ever silent?”

“No,” Fialan said with a grin. “Why did you leave?”

“Why did you die?”

“Who says I’m dead?” Fialan said. “Now, why did you leave?” He stepped onto the stairs and glanced down. The drop was thirty feet. “I guess it’s a good thing I can’t die now.” He looked at Eshe. “Why’d you leave?”

Eshe shook her head. “I don’t know. I guess I lost hope.” She started to walk away as he stepped onto the ledge.

“Wait!” he said.

Eshe glanced behind, her face no longer a mask. “Leave me alone.”

“Why?” He gripped her arm.

He stared as he saw tears streaming down her face. “It’s been so long, Fialan,” she said. Eshe closed her eyes and wept, burying her face in his shoulder.

Fialan held her. “Eshe, Eshe!” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“How long has it been since the Battle of the Nine Worlds?” she asked.

Fialan looked down at her. “Is time the same here as
Elren
?”

“I don’t know
—
some say it is, but Lochvaur is not certain about that. How long has it been in the world of the living?”

Fialan sighed. “It’s been two thousand years, Eshe.”

“I have been dead for over two thousand years,” Eshe said, letting the words sink in. “Fialan, how can one hope after so long?”

Fialan looked into Eshe’s eyes. “I don’t know, Eshe, but if Lochvaur still has hope, then I will have hope.”

“If Lochvaur does not?” she asked.

Fialan grinned. “Then, I will still have hope.”