Margaret Bonham - Lachlei

“Perhaps not now,” said Ni’yah. “I think when this war is over there should be some changes, my brother.”

Rhyn’athel nodded, sheathing his sword. “I won’t take her as Areyn would, but I won’t have her be the pawn of the gods or the pawn of the Wyrd. It must be her choice.”

“We are all pawns of the Wyrd in one way or another,” Ni’yah said. “But you are right, my brother. Lachlei must decide. And so a mortal woman holds the fate of the Nine Worlds and the destiny of the gods.” He grinned wryly. “I couldn’t have thought up more mischief if I had tried.”

Rhyn’athel chuckled. “Indeed.”

“Go to her, brother. I think she’ll surprise you.”

The sun rose above the Darkling Plain, casting all in its red glow. Lachlei rode forward with Redkellan at her side. She swung Fyren , her full anger unleashed on the demon hounds. Several tried to attack her, but she gathered her power and flung them away in a blast of supernatural fire. All around her, she could hear her name as a battle cry. The Lochvaur , Laddel , and Elesil took up the cry and began slaying demons, renewed by her presence. The demon hounds and Braesan fled and disappeared as the warriors converged.

Lachlei raised her hand, amid the shouts of victory. She was covered in blood and looked weary. Cahal rode towards her, a grin on his face. Following him were the other commanders. “I thought you might need some help,” she said.

“Yes, we could use a little help,” Cahal said.

“It looked like you might,” said Redkellan.

Lachlei nodded. “This is Redkellan. He’s agreed to aid us.”

Cara looked at the Redel prince in mistrust. “I didn’t know that the Redel were so eager to aid the Lochvaur .”

Redkellan gazed coolly on Cara. “A Silren ? I thought you served Areyn.” Cara drew her blade and lunged. Cahal pulled her back. “Easy, they just saved our hides.”

“I don’t care,” she snapped. “ Redel dogs!”

“Enough, Silren !” Lachlei snapped. “If anyone should be angry, it should be me for your kindred’s role in nearly destroying mine. I take it you’re one of the dissenters?”

Cara nodded. “I am Cara, daughter of Silvain.”

“Good, we can use you,” Lachlei said. “I see Elesil here—where’s Conlan?”

A silence followed.

“Conlan’s dead,” Cara said. “A demon killed him tonight.”

Cahal looked at Lachlei. “Where’s Rhyn? He was supposed to rescue you.”

A shadow crossed Lachlei’s face. “I don’t know,” she said. “He left.”

Laddel stared at her. “Will he return?”

Lachlei met his gaze. “I sent Telek to find him. It depends on how persuasive he is.”

Then, you know he is Ni’yah, Laddel mindspoke.

Yes , she replied heavily. And I know who Rhyn is .

You don’t know if he will return?

No .

Laddel ’s face became grim. Then, we are lost.

Lachlei dismounted her steed and stood, wounded and bloody, on a hill overlooking Darkling Plain. She was weary and had not even the reserves to heal herself. Her arm ached from a cut she received from a Yeth hound, and it hurt to even breathe. She stretched slowly, rubbing her cramped thigh muscles with her good hand. She could still carry a sword—that was all that mattered now.

The shadows were growing long again. The hours since the morning victory had slipped by all too fast. Her warriors recovered what few clothyard shafts and adamantine-tipped arrows there were. They had pulled the wounded deep inside their lines, hoping to heal them. Lachlei had done what she could, not even bothering to heal herself now. Her own safety seemed meaningless with so many wounded. Even now, she could see the torches of Areyn’s army marching ever closer to her own weary troops. They needed to flee—to escape Areyn unrelenting pursuit—but they also needed rest.

“Lachlei!” Cahal spoke. She turned and looked at her second-in-command.

“Cahal,” she said.

“You know we found Wynne and Haellsil.”

She caught her breath.

“They’re alive and with the noncombatants,” he said quickly. “ Chi’lan Kerri got them out of the city before Areyn razed it.”

Lachlei lowered her head and wept. “Thank the gods,” she whispered. “What of our noncombatants?”

“Ten thousand at most,” he said.

“And our warriors?”

Cahal shook his head. “It’s grim, Lachlei. We have about a thousand Chi’lan left. Our Lochvaur are maybe twenty thousand. The Laddel , maybe five thousand. The Elesil are twenty thousand and the Redel at about ten thousand. Maybe sixty thousand total.”

“Sixty thousand,” she sighed. “I would normally dream for such an army, and yet it seems like nothing compared to Areyn’s might. He could bring a hundred thousand—five hundred thousand, a million—against us because he has the dead. How can we fight against that?”

“He also has the Eltar now as well as the Silren ,” Cahal said. “Who knows what other kindreds will fall to him? But our army isn’t unified either. Already, we’ve had to break up fights between the Elesil and Redel —they’re enemies, you know.”

“I know,” Lachlei said heavily. “Damn it, Cahal, why do we have to fight each other?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. All it does is serve the death god.” He paused. “It’s not safe out here, Lachlei. Come back to the tent, get something to eat and have Laddel take a look at that arm.”

“All right, I will in a little while,” she said, trying to smile. “Go ahead without me—I’ll be with you soon.”

Lachlei watched as Cahal mounted his horse and rode back. She could see it in his eyes that he did not expect to live through this final battle. None of them did. Without Ni’yah or Rhyn’athel, they were doomed.

In despair, her thoughts turned to Rhyn. How Lachlei longed to see him again. Part of her knew what he was, and yet she still could not believe it entirely despite the fact that she had spoken to Ni’yah who admitted Rhyn was the warrior god. If Rhyn were Rhyn’athel, he would certainly have a plan to get them out of this.

But that was not why she missed Rhyn so, Lachlei now admitted to herself. She missed him . Ni’yah had showed her she had fallen in love, despite herself.

Lachlei wished she had not banished him. Rhyn had loved her deeply—perhaps more deeply than even Fialan had loved her.

Snarling pulled her from her reverie. Lachlei’s horse screamed as a Yeth Hound leapt on her. She rolled with the massive demon on top of her, and her injured arm flailed upward to protect her throat. The Yeth sank its dagger teeth into her arm and shook, breaking bone and sinew. Lachlei screamed in pain and fought to grasp her sword or dagger hilt—anything to fight the demon hound. She brought her legs up and kicked, but the Yeth was relentless.

Suddenly, it was gone. Lachlei lay for a moment, her breath ragged and painful with every shallow gulp of air. Her arm was in shreds, and the familiar coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. Her vision blurred, and she saw a glowing warrior astride a stallion, wielding a Sword of Power. The Yeth Hounds slunk away from the warrior, and he rode towards her. She closed her eyes, too weak and overcome with pain to speak. When she opened them again, she looked into a familiar face.

“Rhyn?” she whispered, but her voice came out as a croak.

“Shhhh,” Rhyn whispered to her. “You’re badly wounded.” He touched her, and she saw the glow around him once more.