Margaret Bonham - Lachlei

“Yield!” she demanded. Silence ensued.

Kieran looked up, his face bloody from the broken nose and smashed jaw. He shook his head. “I will not.”

Lachlei let the sword blade linger for a moment as it touched his neck. “Kieran, I need good warriors like you. Yield—you are no good to me serving Areyn Sehduk.”

“I won’t serve a pawn.”

“Then, serve a Chi’lan ,” she said. “For I am Chi’lan , though perhaps in the past three years I may have forsaken the path. I swear by Rhyn’athel’s blood I serve the warrior god first.” She looked up and met Rhyn’s piercing gaze. I know what I am now , she thought. “Kieran, I am Rhyn’athel’s champion.” With that, she thrust his blade into the ground.

A thunderclap shook the hill as white fire flew from the blade. For a moment, the white-hot fire surrounded her. The Chi’lan drew back in surprise and then the flames vanished. Burning pain shot through Lachlei’s forearm, and she almost dropped Fyren . Carefully, she sheathed her sword, pulled the gauntlet off, and pulled back the mail and sleeve of her arming shirt. She stared at her right arm.

“What is it?” Cahal asked as Kieran’s eyes widened.

Lachlei met Kieran’s gaze, and the defeated Chi’lan nodded. “It’s true, then,” he said.

Lachlei looked up and met Rhyn’s gaze. “I’ve been chosen,” she whispered. She brandished her forearm to show the new mark of a black dragon still forming on her skin.

“Quite showy, wasn’t it?” Ni’yah remarked as Rhyn’athel followed the warriors down the hill to the mead hall. After Lachlei had won the fight, Laewynd had placed the circlet on Lachlei’s head and pronounced her queen of the Lochvaur . Lachlei accepted the title and led the warriors back to Caer Lochvaren.

The two gods walked together at the back of the crowd; their conversation concealed from anyone who might listen in. If anyone had paid attention, they would have seen Rhyn speaking with another Lochvaur .

“They needed a sign—I gave them one,” Rhyn’athel replied dismissively. “Lachlei is my champion. She’s proven herself—Kieran was a tough opponent.”

“With a little help from you,” Ni’yah remarked.

Rhyn’athel caught his gaze and held it. “Lachlei defeated Kieran on her own. I merely encouraged her.”

Ni’yah grinned. “She’s good, isn’t she?”

“She’s a better fighter than I expected,” Rhyn’athel admitted. “But she’s inexperienced.”

“Her first-blood capabilities are equal to Fialan’s,” Ni’yah said. “I was disappointed when Lachlei chose to marry him—of all Laddel ’s progeny, she’s shown the most promise.”

Rhyn’athel looked at him, arching his eyebrow. “I believe you’re disappointed she’s Lochvaur .”

“She’s half Laddel and has more of my blood in her than yours. How many generations removed from Lochvaur is she?”

“Ten.”

“At least ten. She should’ve had silver hair and golden eyes, if it hadn’t been for those damn dominant traits of yours…”

Rhyn’athel chuckled. “She’s shorter than a Lochvaur ought to be. Can she transmute?”

Ni’yah shrugged. “I don’t know—she’s never tried. I don’t think she knows her full capabilities.”

The two gods walked down the hill to the open gate. Ni’yah stopped and gave his brother a measuring look. “Once in a while, the Wyrd weaves a strange pattern that none of us can fathom. Have you looked at the Wyrd lately?”

Rhyn’athel shook his head. “Not in its entirety since becoming mortal, why?”

Ni’yah looked above them and nodded. The warrior god followed his brother’s gaze, seeing the slender filaments of the Wyrd as they made up the fabric of the world. “I’ve seen only a few times when the Wyrd behaved like this. One was with Lochvaur ; the other was with our own creation within the Wyrd.”

“Are you saying that Lachlei affects the Wyrd?”

“I’m saying that with three Athel’cen , our appearance has changed the very fabric of the Wyrd. Lachlei is more than simply a pawn; she may be a player…”

Rhyn’athel frowned. “Then, she may control our fate.”

“And the fate of the Nine Worlds,” Ni’yah said. “You were wise to make her your champion.”

Rhyn’athel stared ahead at the guards at the gate, but his mind was on Lachlei. “It is more than that,” he admitted.

Ni’yah nodded. “Indeed, my brother.”

Rhyn’athel looked at Ni’yah in mild annoyance. “Don’t you have work to do with the Laddel ?”

Ni’yah chuckled. “I suppose I do.” He vanished, leaving the warrior god to continue though the gates of Caer Lochvaren.

The mead hall was dark with only a faint glow from the firepit when Rhyn’athel entered. Most of the warriors had fallen asleep beside the fire with only a few still awake. Lachlei sat at a table near the fire beside Cahal. She looked up as the god entered and smiled.

She had not seen Rhyn since her fight with Kieran. Lachlei had removed her armor and was now wearing a simple tunic and breeches. Her forearms were bare, and she gazed at the dragon marking on her arm: the mark of Rhyn’athel. She smiled as she saw him enter.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

Rhyn’s silver eyes glittered in the dark. “I had some unfinished business.” He sat down beside her, and his gaze fell on the dragon mark. “Does it still hurt?”

“A little,” she admitted and then looked at him curiously. “How do you know it hurt?”

Rhyn smiled wryly. “It looked like it hurt.”

Lachlei gazed at him in puzzlement. “You know, Fialan never had the mark of Rhyn’athel,” she said. “But Fialan wasn’t challenged, either.”

Rhyn slid his fingers along the mark. Lachlei suppressed a shiver as he touched the darkened skin. His touch was feather-light and gentle as he traced the mark. The pain subsided and he withdrew his hand. “You did very well against Kieran,” he said.

She met his gaze. “I must thank you for the information,” she said. “I don’t think I would’ve had an advantage otherwise.”

“Do you believe that?”

Lachlei shook her head. “I don’t know what I believe anymore,” she admitted. “I thought I didn’t want the crown.”

“It’s not what you expected.”

“No. I thought most of what Fialan did was placate Laewynd and the Council. I had no desire for politics.” She stared at the firepit. “I always assumed I was a warrior, Rhyn, even when I chose to become Fialan’s consort and drift into the background. I felt more comfortable with the Chi’lan than I did at the affairs of state.”

“It is one thing to win the crown; it is quite another to hold it.”

“Fialan used to say that.” She smiled sadly.

“Did he? So, if you didn’t want the crown, why insist on it?”

Lachlei shook her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I know that Kieran, for all his strength as a warrior, doesn’t have first-blood powers. The demon that killed Fialan is still out there. The Lochvaur don’t need a politician, Rhyn. They need a champion—a first-blood—one who could take on a demon. Maybe someone like you.” She considered him thoughtfully. Rhyn would make a great king , she decided. He was a powerful first-blood, if enigmatic. “Why didn’t you try for the throne?”

Rhyn shrugged. “Rhyn’athel chose you.” “Indeed, and maybe I am that champion, but I don’t know. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have believed it, but now, I’m not sure.”

“What changed your mind?”