Margaret Bonham - Lachlei

She was still a first-blood and had powers—perhaps now was the time she used her magic. The strength of the Chi’lan had always been in battle.

Without something like a Sword of Power, she could not focus her magic as effectively as she had seen Rhyn do, but she was still powerful—perhaps powerful enough. She took a few more breaths to try to calm the pounding in her ears, but her mouth was dry. She could barely speak the words in the god’s tongue: Illa ara sceadu, galdor lochvarel …

Suddenly, she saw movement on her left. Lachlei drew her sword and turned to see a Chi’lan woman astride a horse with sword drawn. Lachlei sighed in relief and lowered her blade. The illusion did likewise. The magic had worked. She was looking at a replica of herself.

“ Vala! ” Go!—she ordered the apparition, sending it away from her. The doppelganger was an illusion that would leave no tracks, but she knew demons were not necessarily observant. The illusion turned her horse and rode through the forest at a speed Lachlei was envious of. The screams of the demon were close now, and she spied a copse of thick firs not far from her.

She urged her horse towards them, hoping the boughs would provide some concealment from above. As her warhorse approached the trees, the snow became deep, and the horse balked. She leapt from the saddle and plowed into thigh-high snow. She grasped the reins and pulled her horse forward into the thicket.

Her first-blood senses alert, she could feel rather than see the demon as it passed. She could do nothing to hide her tracks, but perhaps it would not see them from that far above. She concentrated on an impregnable shield to conceal herself. As she did, she felt the cold grip of the demon.

It was not a heath-stalker as she had hoped, but an arch-demon. She felt it as it casually inspected her shield. The demon considered it as though it was not completely certain if she was there or not. Then, she heard a triumphant cry and a flurry of wings as the demon raced away after the doppelganger.

Lachlei shivered violently. She was drenched with sweat, which her padded arming shirt had soaked up. The cold wind blew through her, and her fingers were growing numb. “By Rhyn’athel’s sword…” she muttered and then stopped herself. She doubted Rhyn’athel would show much mercy to her now.

She leaned against the warhorse and it whickered softly. She pulled off her leather gauntlets and ran her hands over the horse’s hide. It was good to feel the animal’s warmth and the painful tingling in her fingers told her she was restoring circulation. She slid her gauntlets back on and considered her options.

It was a fine time for her to order Rhyn to leave, she admitted. But the anger had been smoldering for some time. Perhaps it had been seeing Fialan again or watching Rhyn dispatch Braesan with such callousness. Perhaps it had been his advances towards her, when he knew she still loved Fialan. Perhaps it had been her reaction to him. She had wanted him, despite herself. He had voiced the tension both of them had felt.

Was Rhyn truly a god? She had laughed in his face at the claim, yet now she was not so certain. There were only three Athel’cen . Could he have been Rhyn’athel? She recalled the battles they fought; each time, Rhyn used power beyond anything she had ever seen. Lachlei had explained it away that he was a talented first-blood, nothing more. Yet, looking back on his powers, she had known all along that he had done more than any mortal.

Her first clue should have been the Sword of Power, she decided. No Sword of Power existed, save Laddel ’s. It had passed through her at one point, leaving her unscathed. She had chosen to ignore it at the time—why? The Sword of Power should have cut her in half and yet, it had not touched her. He had destroyed Areyn Sehduk’s defenses and brought utter destruction on the Braesan . Furthermore, Rhyn’s Sword had the warrior rune carved in its blade: Teiwaz. God-Warrior . Rhyn’athel.

Lachlei closed her eyes and shivered again. Why had she been so blind? Was what Rhyn said true, that all the other Chi’lan had long ago recognized him? If so, they must have thought her foolish. Perhaps she had let her anger cloud her judgment. She had been angry at Areyn for killing her husband and Rhyn had been the only one to lash out at. Her feelings towards Rhyn had further complicated matters and made her angrier yet. In her anger and resentment, she had driven him away, demanding that he leave her.

Do not call on me in your darkest hour, for I will not hear your cries .

Was she no longer Rhyn’athel’s champion? Had he truly forsaken her? She resisted the urge to pull off her gauntlet and pull back the sleeve of her mailshirt and arming jacket to see if the mark was gone. She did not need to know this right now. She shivered again, but this time grasped her horse’s reins and began the slow, agonizing trudge through the deep drifts. Forsaken or not, she would die of exposure if she did not continue.

Rhyn had told her they were a day and night away from the army, but that had been at his pace, on a road, and without dodging demons. She guessed that she was forty or fifty miles from her army—maybe farther. At this rate, it was unlikely she would make ten miles in a day. She didn’t dare take the road—that would be the first place the demons would look for her.

Lachlei had enough food and water for three days or maybe longer if she stretched the rations as far as she dared. She did not have a bow, so hunting was unlikely. After that, she could survive a week or better if the snow held out or if she could find water. Assuming she could find the army in that time and Areyn had not destroyed them.

The snow became less deep, and Lachlei stomped her feet to try to restore circulation in her toes. Her leather boots and breeches were soaked. Still, riding was better than walking, and she slid a numb foot into a stirrup and swung herself into the saddle.

Another scream from above told her that the demon had discovered her ruse. Lachlei cursed. She had not expected the demon to return so soon. She urged the horse onward, unwilling to search for another hiding place just yet. She concentrated and sent another doppelganger out, hoping to confuse the demon.

The screams grew louder, and without Lachlei’s urging, the warhorse broke into a gallop. Lachlei turned and saw the demon overtaking her. She drew Fyren and twisted in the saddle in time to slash at the demon as it bore down on her.

At that moment, two things happened. Fyren bit deep into the demon and the warhorse passed under a snag. The boughs smacked Lachlei hard, throwing her off her steed and into a snow bank. She tumbled and lay stunned.

The demon, angry and wounded, landed nearby. It considered Lachlei as she lay motionless in the snow. Lachlei groaned and fought to keep conscious. She could see the slavering creature as it clicked its beak together in pleasure at seeing her so incapacitated. Lachlei moved her leg and cried out, nearly blacking out from the pain. It did not take her first-blood senses to know it had twisted and broken in several places. She could not flee, and Fyren lay many yards away.

Lachlei pulled her dagger from its sheath. It was woefully inadequate, and given it was what she had, she decided to try another tactic. Demon , she mindspoke to it. Why do you come for me?

The arch-demon hesitated and laughed. The horrible grating sound hurt her head, and Lachlei winced. Perhaps this had not been her best idea, she thought ruefully. She slid her hand against her broken leg and concentrated.

Why do you come for me? she persisted.