Margaret Bonham - Lachlei

Beside her rode Rhyn, his steel gaze studying the Silren lines, his face grim. She tried to discern what Rhyn was sensing, but she could sense nothing save the massive shield that seemed impervious to her power. “Is the demon there?” she asked tentatively.

Rhyn nodded once and continued to gaze into the valley. “He’s planning on trapping us within the valley and crushing our army with his numbers.”

“That would make sense,” Lachlei said and fell silent, seeing Rhyn lost in thought.

Rhyn gazed at the Silren army. Without the full Lochvaur army, the Lochvaur had no chance against an army five times their size. A ride into that valley would be suicide.

“Is there any way for us to lure him from the valley?”

“Lure?” Rhyn glanced at her and then back to the valley. A slow smile crept across his face. “Lure—that’s it...”

Lachlei gazed at him. “Do you have an idea?”

“Of course. It’s simple, but he’s arrogant enough to fall for it.”

Lachlei gazed at Rhyn curiously. “Who’s arrogant? Do you have an idea?”

“Yes,” he said, grinning. “You gave me the idea—I need five hundred of your troops.”

“Five hundred?” she stared. “That isn’t enough against ten thousand.”

“No, it’s not—but it will be enough to draw him out.”

Lachlei’s eyes glinted as realization dawned in them. “Of course,” she said. “We’ll be ready for them.”

“Then we’ll charge at dusk.”

Areyn gazed at the southern ridges. The Lochvaur were there, waiting. Areyn could wait, too. At some point, the Lochvaur would have to ride down through the pass and engage the army. With the Silren ’s overwhelming numbers, it would be a slaughter.

The Lochvaur had other possible choices. One would be to retreat. The other would be to try to circle around, but their way would be blocked. No, the Lochvaur would come to him in good time.

Imdyr sat beside him, clad in her black mail. The Lochvaur were there as she had told him. In fact, everything Imdyr had told him had come to pass. Areyn considered the priestess with some puzzlement. She seemed able to get around the barriers he could not. It was as though she had a goddess’s powers. And yet, Areyn Sehduk could sense that she was mortal and nothing more. He reached out with his senses to see how many of the Lochvaur army was marching against them and abruptly was shoved back.

“How many?” Areyn asked.

Imdyr looked sideways at the death god as if he had taunted her. “There are only two thousand,” she said. “They will attack—there!” She pointed to the cleft in the ravine.

Areyn gazed at the ravine. “That takes no sorcery to figure out,” he said. “Unless the Lochvaur are suicidal, there is no other way.”

Imdyr’s gaze narrowed, but said naught for some time. “There is a god among the Lochvaur ,” she said at length.

Areyn started. “A god—are you sure?”

Imdyr closed her eyes as her battle horse stomped impatiently. She opened her eyes and met the death god’s gaze. “I am certain of it.”

Areyn paused. “It must be Ni’yah—I’ve seen the cur skulking around. Little matter—he hasn’t the power to defeat me.”

“What of Rhyn’athel?” Imdyr asked.

“Rhyn’athel?” Areyn spoke sharply. Imdyr smiled mockingly at the fear in his voice. “Rhyn’athel wouldn’t dare; his precious Truce means more to him than a minor encroachment. Ni’yah, however, would become involved.”

“The god I sense is powerful,” Imdyr remarked. “I hope that it is the wolf-god as you think.”

Areyn looked at the mountains, trying to sense the god. How Imdyr was able to break through barriers he could not was indeed puzzling. “It is Ni’yah,” he replied. “Only the wolf-god would be so bold.”

The sun was beginning to sink low in the horizon when Rhyn began to select the warriors for the assault. He rode among the Chi’lan , choosing the best riders he could find. When he had picked his five hundred, Rhyn returned to the front lines where Lachlei and Cahal waited.

“I’ve chosen my warriors,” Rhyn said. “I’ll be taking Cahal, if you can spare him.”

“I can’t,” Lachlei said. “He’ll be with the remainder of the army.”

“You’re coming with us?”

“Yes,” Lachlei said with a sly smile. “Any objections?”

“Yes,” Rhyn said. “Who will lead the army?”

“Cahal will.”

“Cahal?” he said. “And if you fall?”

“I’m Rhyn’athel’s champion, am I not?” she asked. “I’m your queen. I should lead the attack.” She crossed her arms. “If Fialan were alive, you’d expect no less from him.”

“We wouldn’t put Fialan under undue risk,” Cahal replied. “They’ll be plenty of fighting here with the rest of the army.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’ll be risking my life regardless of where I am, save perhaps, behind the walls of Caer Lochvaren. I am your champion and your queen. I will lead the charge.” With that, Lachlei rode off.

Rhyn glanced at Cahal, who gave the Chi’lan a helpless shrug. Rhyn followed her.

Lachlei glanced back, irritated. “Rhyn, you don’t need to follow me—I’ve made up my mind.”

“You don’t trust me leading the attack.”

Lachlei met Rhyn’s gaze. His silver eyes betrayed no emotion. “Of course, I do,” she said, a slight hesitation in her voice. “That’s not what’s at issue here.”

“What is at issue?”

Lachlei paused and silence ensued. She turned her horse away, unwilling to have Rhyn see her expression. She knew her face was red from anger and shame. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Lachlei turned her horse around. Rhyn was still gazing at her with those steady silver eyes, his expression thoughtful, neither disapproving or condescending. “The High Council…” she began and her voice trailed off. Her horse nickered softly and pawed the ground. She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“I am not the High Council,” Rhyn said. “I care little what the High Council thinks of you. Nor do the Chi’lan serve the High Council. The Chi’lan serve the king—or queen of the Lochvaur —and Rhyn’athel.”

“The High Council chose me because they believed they could bend me to their will.”

“Can they?”

Rhyn’s words stung, even if the question was a simple one. Had she given into the High Council’s demands by not challenging Laewynd? What would Fialan have done in this situation? Lachlei felt her fist tighten on her horse’s reins and the stallion tossed its head in displeasure. “They wouldn’t give me warriors.”

“The Chi’lan are your warriors.”

“But the soldiers…”

“A Chi’lan is worth ten soldiers.”

“There are ten thousand Silren and a demon waiting to attack us,” Lachlei said, her face flushing.

“I would say our odds are about even,” Rhyn’athel said wryly.

For a moment, their gazes locked. Rhyn’athel smiled, and Lachlei chuckled. “Rhyn,” she said, shaking her head. “If I only had such faith as you.”

“Lachlei,” he said. “Let me lead the attack. The rest of the army will stand ready with you. There is little chance of me being ransomed; however, you will sorely test Laewynd’s loyalty if you are captured.”

Lachlei laughed. “I can imagine Laewynd’s expression if I were ransomed. He would probably appoint Kellachan or another warrior in my stead.” She paused. “Maybe even you.”

Rhyn chuckled. “I wouldn’t take it.”