Margaret Bonham - Lachlei

Cara rode behind the archers, in front of the warhorses and infantry. Cahal, Laddel , and the other commanders rode with her. “Damn,” she said. “I wish the wolf-god was among us.”

Laddel smiled grimly. “Indeed. But I, for one, wouldn’t argue if Rhyn’athel fought beside us.”

She looked at him. “You look much like your sire. I didn’t have much time to thank him when we entered this war.”

A howl echoed through the line. Laddel stiffened; his brass eyes narrowed as the howling continued. Cara felt an involuntary shiver run through her.

“What is it?” Cahal asked.

“Areyn’s Yeth Hounds.”

“Yeth Hounds?” Cahal repeated.

“The demon hounds of Areyn. Dire wolves.”

“We’ve seen them,” Cara said. “They’re very tough to kill.” She looked into the night. Slowly, thousands of red glowing eyes appeared, one after another. “By the warrior god’s sword, how many are there?”

Laddel shook his head. “Could be as many in number as our army. Maybe more.”

Without warning, the demon wolves attacked. The Eleion sent a barrage of arrows into the creature’s lines, and the wolves screamed as the adamantine tips of the clothyard shafts penetrated and pinned them down. Some ran through, only to be waylaid on the pikes. The pikes were not adamantine tipped and did no damage, but it kept the demons at bay. Those that came through the pikes, the foot soldiers and cavalry made short work of. As the bodies of the dying demons began to pile up, Cara grew fearful. They would soon run out arrows. How many demons were there? She glanced at Laddel and Cahal, who looked grim.

“Yeth!” shouted the archers.

A white wolf leapt through the lines, its eyes glowing red as it headed right towards Cara. Her horse reared as the demon leapt for her. She slashed at the beast as it threw itself on her, but it knocked her from the saddle. For a moment, everything was teeth, fur, and claws as the demon tried to rip her throat out. She felt the crushing jaws around her gorget. and she slashed and stabbed.

Then, everything was still. Cara could hear her name called out and felt strong hands pull her to her feet. She was covered in blood—demon blood.

“Are you all right?” Cahal asked. He and Laddel were standing beside her. She nodded, staring stupidly at the demon’s body as it turned to dust before her eyes. “Are you wounded?”

“No,” she said. “Watch out!”

More demon wolves broke through their ranks. The archers were out of arrows. Demon wolves were everywhere, suddenly materializing inside the ranks. The Eleion fought back, but they were weary and the demons were fresh. Cara wondered now if perhaps this might be their last stand. She looked in the sky; dawn was breaking. Even so, she doubted she would see midday.

Then, I die as Chi’lan , she thought.

A battle-horn rang out, and there was a pause in the fighting. Cara turned and saw another Eleion army charge forward. She and Cahal glanced at each other. “What in the gods’ names?” she exclaimed.

Cahal stared. “They’re Redel ,” he said, noting their armor and surcoats emblazoned with a sun.

“ Redel ? What are they doing in this battle?”

Cara’s gaze fell on a lone rider at the thrust of the attack. Her red-gold surcoat emblazoned with a dragon of Rhyn’athel shone even at this distance. “There’s a Chi’lan among them.”

Cahal began laughing. “Lachlei! Lachlei!” Soon all the soldiers picked up his cry.

“Admit it; you’re still in love with her.”

Rhyn’athel sat on his throne in the Hall of the Gods. The great mead hall was empty, save for the two. The firepit sat cold, and a breeze blew through the vast room. If either had been in their mortal bodies, they would have felt the wind’s bite much more. It echoed Rhyn’athel’s dismal mood.

Admit it; you’re still in love with her .

Ni’yah’s words stung, but like most of his barbs, the words held truth. That was why most gods detested Ni’yah—indeed, that’s why Areyn despised the wolf god. Rhyn’athel suffered his brother’s tongue, because despite the harshness, Ni’yah had a clarity that sometimes Rhyn’athel lacked. And, although Rhyn’athel wouldn’t admit it, he had brotherly affection for the wolf-god.

Rhyn’athel glanced at Ni’yah, but refused to meet the wolf-god’s gaze.

“Love is a foolish mortal emotion…”

Ni’yah grinned. “Brother, you’re not the only god to have fallen for a mortal woman.”

Rhyn’athel stood, towering over his brother. “You—you dragged me into this! I should skin your miserable wolf-hide and hang it on my door as a warning for those who dare to meddle.”

Ni’yah chuckled. “I’d probably deserve it, too. But this doesn’t alter the circumstances, my brother. The Lochvaur are at Areyn’s mercy without you. And Lachlei will become his…”

A muscle twitched in Rhyn’athel’s chiseled jaw. He turned his silver eyes away. “Lachlei doesn’t love me.”

“She loves you—but she also loves a memory.”

“I can’t give her what she asks. It is not in anyone’s power, save Areyn’s.”

“Then, Lachlei is lost to you.” Ni’yah shook his head. “And with her, so shifts the balance.”

“Lachlei would be Areyn’s when she died,” Rhyn’athel replied. “I can do naught.”

Ni’yah leaned back on the armrest of his own throne. “Are you so quick to relinquish the battle?” He shook his head. “And I thought you were always the more powerful. I guess I was wrong.”

Rhyn’athel turned to him. “What are you saying?”

“For a victor, you’re a coward!” Ni’yah said, his voice dripping with scorn. “I’m surprised that the great warrior god cowers in the face of a lesser deity. Perhaps I’ve overestimated you…”

Anger flashed in Rhyn’athel’s eyes, and before Ni’yah could respond, he held the wolf-god off the floor by the neck and shoved him against a wall. The tip of Teiwaz pressed into Ni’yah’s throat. “I should cut your tongue out,” Rhyn’athel said.

Ni’yah’s brass eyes glanced at the Sword of Power. “For speaking the truth?” he said, his voice strained. “For your annoying prattle.”

“For the truth ,” Ni’yah croaked. “Areyn has you cowed. He will take the Nine Worlds from you bit by bit, until there is nothing left and you can no longer stop him.”

“But the Nine Worlds…”

“The Nine Worlds were ravaged before and we managed to rebuild. Is our power so weak, we cower at creating again? Are you willing to let Areyn gain the upper hand in this war?” He paused and a gleam entered his eyes. “Do you want him to make love to Lachlei?”

Rhyn’athel’s fist closed tighter around Ni’yah’s throat, but he did not move the Sword. He met Ni’yah gaze with fierce determination. “Areyn wouldn’t dare.”

“Areyn would defile her. He’d rape her and force her to bear his demon offspring—the sons that should be yours…”

Rhyn’athel released Ni’yah. The wolf-god landed unsteadily on his feet and ran his fingers over his sore neck.

“Has your time as a mortal made you Wyrd-blind?” Ni’yah said, still rubbing his neck. “Her godling sons will change the balance.”

Rhyn’athel shook his head. “There’s a fork in the Wyrd strands.”

“Your sons may bring Areyn’s ultimate destruction or Areyn’s sons may bring yours.”

“But Lachlei is the junction,” he said at last. “She doesn’t love me, Ni’yah. She loves Fialan, and I can’t even bring him back.”