Margaret Bonham - Lachlei

“I challenge her blood-right,” he said, his silver eyes narrowing.

Lachlei met the man’s gaze. “You challenge me?” she asked. Despite Laewynd’s threats and her earlier fears, she had not expected a challenge—especially from one of the Council members. But Laewynd had not said the Council vote was unanimous. Indeed, it did not have to be—Fialan had won the crown through a simple majority.

The thought of fighting another Chi’lan dismayed Lachlei. She now considered her opponent.

Kieran was an older warrior, loyal to Fialan, but Lachlei knew little about him, save that he had been in Fialan’s guard. He wore an older-style scale hauberk and his broadsword was made from darkened steel. One eye was glass-blue—cloudy—from an injury sustained long ago. Kieran steeled his jaw as he spoke. “It is my right as Chi’lan ,” he said. “Regardless of whether I am first-blood.”

Lachlei glanced at Cahal, who nodded grimly. That was technically true—any Chi’lan had the right to challenge for kingship. She saw Rhyn’s eyes harden.

“That is your right, Kieran,” she agreed. “But, I would ask you to reconsider.”

“Does Fialan’s consort fear a fight?” the warrior replied. “Or has the trappings of royalty dulled your skills?”

Murmurs ran through the Chi’lan . Lachlei smiled slightly. “No, but evidently my appointment has sharpened your tongue,” she replied. “I suspect it is sharper than your sword.”

Laewynd stood between them. “Is this an official challenge?”

Kieran drew his sword. “It is.”

Laewynd looked at Lachlei. “Do you accept?”

Lachlei drew Fyren . Cahal pulled her aside, concern in his eyes. “Lachlei,” he whispered. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Lachlei took a deep breath. It would be a fight to the death or unless a contender yielded. “Why is he challenging me?” she whispered back. “I thought the Chi’lan were all of one mind.” “Kieran challenges because of Laewynd,” Rhyn replied as he stood beside her. “He was the dissenting vote in the Council. There are those who believe you would be a pawn for the Council.”

Lachlei frowned. “A pawn?” She met his gaze. “Do others believe that?”

“Some,” admitted Cahal. “But I am not one of them.”

Lachlei turned to Rhyn. “Do you believe that?”

“I believe you will be Rhyn’athel’s champion,” the god replied. “I believe you are Chi’lan .”

She met his steady gaze and smiled. “Yes,” she shouted so all could hear. “I accept the challenge!”

Cheers ran through the crowd. She turned away, and felt Rhyn grip her arm.

Kieran is blind in his left eye , Rhyn informed her in mindspeak. He’s very strong, but not as fast—use that to your advantage .

Lachlei nodded. She crouched into a defensive position, holding Fyren ready. The warriors began to bang their weapons against their shields in time. Kieran dropped into a defensive position and they circled slowly, gauging each other. Lachlei kept her breathing measured. Time seemed to slow as she studied her adversary. Kieran was not only a seasoned warrior, but also much heavier and stronger. He had at least fifty pounds on her, and his height left her at a disadvantage. She would have to either hang back and wait for an opening or press her attack and risk taking a hit.

She could see in Kieran’s good eye that he too was weighing potential strategies. He had her at a disadvantage, but he knew she was Chi’lan trained. He circled and feinted, trying to draw her in. Lachlei backed away slightly. She took another breath and focused now—the roar from the Chi’lan , the beating of the weapons, everything was gone, save she and Kieran.

Without warning Kieran attacked. Lachlei parried and riposted, swinging Fyren around. Kieran parried again; the force of his blow jarred her arm. She slipped to his left side and swung Fyren . Kieran barely managed to parry the blow. Lachlei skittered out of range as he brought his own sword crashing down.

She smiled inwardly. Rhyn was right. She nearly got a blow in on Kieran’s left. It meant he was vulnerable there. Kieran would also be more protective of that side, knowing his limitations.

Before she could react, Kieran lunged at her, swinging his broadsword. Lachlei parried and attacked. Kieran countered. Lachlei took the full brunt of the blow on Fyren . The blow jarred her arm, threatening to numb it. She slipped inside, and Fyren twisted upward, cutting into Kieran’s arm.

The Chi’lan warrior yelled and backed off as Fyren ’s adamantine blade drew first blood just above the elbow. Lachlei followed, Chi’lan bloodlust in her eyes, as she swung the battle blade. Another cut, this time across the chest, but the scale armor held. Lachlei realized too late that Kieran had her where he wanted her.

Kieran swung his own blade. Lachlei backed off as the blade hit her helm hard and bounced into her left shoulder, biting through mail. She felt the snap as the heavy sword broke her collarbone, and she screamed as the sword continued to bite in. The pain blinded and sickened her and she dropped to her knees.

“Do you yield?” she heard a voice somewhere beyond the pain.

Lachlei opened her eyes. She had dropped Fyren and was now on her hands and knees, leaning into her right hand to keep from collapsing to the ground.

“Do you yield?” The voice came again.

Lachlei closed her eyes again. Her mouth was dry and she could not speak. The pain was intense.

You are first-blood. Is this how Rhyn’athel’s champion would die?

Lachlei hesitated. She concentrated on the pain and found it lessening. Like all first-bloods, she could heal—but could she heal herself? She now focused on the wound.

“Do you yield?”

Silence ensued. The drumming stopped, and the warriors were silent.

Lachlei continued to concentrate, and her shoulder became warm. The pain disappeared and she could feel the bone begin to knit.

You are first-blood .

Lachlei raised her head and met Kieran’s gaze defiantly. “I am first-blood,” she said, her voice strong. “I do not yield!”

Kieran raised his sword for the final blow. Lachlei leapt to her feet, slamming her foot into his knee and taking him down, sweeping his legs out from under him. Kieran fell, dropping the sword and grasping Lachlei as he went down. Lachlei struck his jaw with a solid palm heel strike and rolled from his grasp. She rolled onto Fyren and leapt to her feet, sword in hand. Kieran was armed and on his feet as well, but not as steady. Lachlei had not broken his knee, but she had done damage to his right leg.

Lachlei knew by the look in Kieran’s eyes that the Chi’lan would show no mercy now. He swung his sword, pressing her backwards. Lachlei tried to slip under his attacks, but each time she was driven back.

Hold your ground .

Lachlei heard the voice in her head, but made no reply. She was drenched in sweat and blood, and was tiring now. She could not see how she could hold her ground without losing her head to Kieran’s blade. Kieran slammed his blade down as Lachlei brought Fyren up. This time, as the blades chattered against each other, she twisted Fyren and caught both blades, redirecting them down, point first into the ground. Using the momentum, she leapt up and threw a round kick to Kieran’s blind side, hitting him in the head. The kick sent Kieran sprawling, and Lachlei pulled both swords from the ground. She stood over the fallen Chi’lan with both blades pointed at Kieran’s throat.