Margaret Bonham - Lachlei

“May I enter?” she heard Rhyn’s voice from outside the door.

“Please, come in,” Lachlei said. She poured him a cup of hot water and offered it to him. “I’m sorry it’s not spiced wine.”

“I’m not,” Rhyn replied, gratefully accepting the cup and drinking. “We need our wits about us. Our scouts just came back—the Silren are camped in the next valley.”

“Are you sure?” Lachlei said, lowering her cup and staring. “My Sight has shown nothing.”

“Something is blocking our ability to see exactly where they are,” Rhyn replied. “But, the shield goes both ways; we’ve been able to keep our own army’s precise location hidden from them.”

“Until now,” Lachlei remarked. She shook her head. “They’re bound to have scouts.”

“No doubt,” the Chi’lan said. “They’ll wait for us, though. The Silren will prefer to fight rested.”

“Can we wait for them?”

Rhyn shook his head. “Inadvisable. We’re heavily outnumbered, and we’ll give up our advantage if we fail to take the higher ground.”

“Your recommendations?” Lachlei asked.

“Rest tonight,” Rhyn said. “We have a day’s march between us, so it is unlikely that the Silren will try anything tonight, but we’ll post a watch just in case. We can awaken before dawn and bring our army to the ridgeline along the pass. At that point, we’ll prepare and bivouac there. Then, we’ll attack at dusk.”

Lachlei nodded. “Are there really ten thousand of them?”

He gulped the rest of the water. “That’s what the scouts are reporting.” He paused. “The lay of the land will dictate the battle.” He smiled at her. “We both need rest. Don’t worry just yet, Lachlei. Something will present itself.”

Lachlei watched as he left. “I hope you’re right, Rhyn.”

Laddel stood along the parapets of Caer Ladren and gazed into the crimson sunset. He was a shorter Eleion with an agouti mane and brass eyes like his father, Ni’yah, the wolf-god. He was ancient by Eleion standards, having lived through the war between the gods nearly two thousand years before. The last war was still vividly etched in his mind.

The Laddel fortress-city towered over the forest that stretched for miles in all directions. Hewn from the native red sandstone, the city was a beacon of the Laddel might. The towers curved upward, carved with symbols of the forest and the wolf. The main keep sat in the center of the towers, the green and silver banners hung from the walls. Along the parapets, silver-haired Laddel warriors kept watch, their green and silver cloaks flashed in the sunlight. They had grown from a small kindred to a powerful nation within the two thousand years. None dared challenge the Laddel .

And yet, Laddel stood alone with his dark thoughts. Twice he had felt the tremor that ran through the world’s core. The first time, that tremor bought terrible destruction on the Eleion . Laddel had been young then—not much more than boy—when the war of the gods began. Those were the days when the gods of light walked among the Eleion . Before the Eternal Fire and before the Truce.

Before Areyn Sehduk’s vengeance.

“Of all the living first-bloods, you alone recognize Areyn’s stench in this world,” came a voice from behind him.

“It isn’t hard,” Laddel replied and turned to Ni’yah. “I’ve had plenty of past experience.” He paused and smiled. “I was wondering when you might return to Caer Ladren, Father.”

Ni’yah nodded. The wolf-god leaned against a merlon. “I wish I came with happier news.”

“Areyn Sehduk has returned?”

“Indeed.”

“What of the Truce?”

“Areyn has taken the form of a Silren ,” Ni’yah replied. “He thought to dupe Rhyn’athel and me by his disguise. Even now, he is marching on the Lochvaur .”

“The Lochvaur .” Laddel gazed into the setting sun. “We had heard of Fialan’s demise. It was no accident.”

“Indeed,” Ni’yah said. “Lachlei, Fialan’s consort, is leading the Chi’lan against the Silren .”

“Lachlei—Ladara’s daughter?”

“The same,” said Ni’yah, a glint in his eyes. “Lachlei is your great-granddaughter.”

Laddel chuckled. “A Laddel blood on the throne of the Lochvaur .”

“Indeed—and a twice first-blood—Lachlei is quite powerful. Areyn doesn’t know this yet.”

Laddel shrugged. “So, why are you here? The Chi’lan are legendary—they will turn the Silren army.”

“Lachlei only has the Chi’lan . The Council wouldn’t grant her the army.”

Laddel shook his head and turned away. “The Truce has been broken, father, and now you are asking me to lead my warriors against the Silren when Rhyn’athel’s own kindred won’t fight for themselves? You ask that the Laddel give up our lives in defense of another kindred?”

“If you do not fight Areyn Sehduk now with the Lochvaur , you will find yourself fighting Areyn alone,” said the wolf-god, his tone low and menacing. “And even I may not be able to help you.”

“The Lochvaur are Rhyn’athel’s kindred. The Truce has been broken. If the Lochvaur are so important, then let Rhyn’athel save them.”

“You would defy me?”

“I would defy folly,” Laddel replied, turning and walking away. “My father, you are a meddler. If it were so serious, Rhyn’athel would join the fray.” He sighed and shook his head as he continued down the wall walk towards the tower.

“He has.”

Laddel halted and turned around once more. “What did you say?”

Ni’yah’s face was grim. “Rhyn’athel has already joined in the fight,” he said. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but you’ve left me with no choice.”

Laddel stared. “Rhyn’athel is here?” “Yes. He’s leading the Chi’lan against Areyn Sehduk.”

Silence followed as Laddel met the wolf-god’s gaze. “Who knows?”

“No one, save you and I,” Ni’yah replied. “Not even Rhyn’athel’s own Chi’lan know that he is among them. If Areyn were to learn this, it would take the war to the next stage.” He paused. “I know you’re powerful enough to keep that secret from Areyn, but no one else must know.”

“Rhyn’athel has joined the fight,” Laddel mused. “Even with my silence, Areyn will learn soon enough.”

Ni’yah nodded. “Yes, he will.”

“The Laddel will be dragged into this regardless of our wishes.”

“You can meet Areyn on his terms or on yours.” The god shrugged. “The choice is yours.” With that, the god vanished.

Laddel sighed and shook his head. He leaned against the merlon, catching the last rays of the setting sun and gazing into the dark sky.

“Father, was that the wolf-god?”

Laddel turned his gaze to his son, Ladsil. Ladsil was a much younger version of himself with the same wolf eyes and agouti hair. Laddel consider his son thoughtfully. He had been about Ladsil’s age when the war between the gods began. “Yes, it was,” he said.

“What did he say?”

“The Lochvaur need our help. Prepare the army—we’ll be marching from Caer Ladren within the week.”

Lachlei looked down into the valley where the Silren army waited. Ten thousand warriors stood ready to fight her and her Chi’lan . Overhead, the sky was dark with approaching storm clouds and a cold wind blew from the east. They broke camp early and marched to the top of the next ridgeline above the valley where the Silren army sat.