Margaret Bonham - Lachlei

“Am I dreaming?” she murmured. She began to feel warm, and the pain disappeared.

“Shhhh,” he repeated. He touched her ribs where they had broken and punctured a lung. His fingers touched her shredded arm, and it became whole again. The damage was extensive—had he not arrived, Lachlei would have died.

Lachlei opened her eyes. “You’ve come back to me,” she said confused. “Or am I dead, and you too? Will we have to join Areyn’s legions?”

Rhyn smiled. “No, we’re not dead,” he said. “And I doubt Areyn could have me in his legions.”

Lachlei slid her arms around his neck, pausing for a moment to see that her arm was whole. “Rhyn,” she whispered. “How…?”

“Shhhh, you’re still healing.”

“No, listen to me,” she said. Rhyn fell silent and met her gaze. “Gods, I don’t know what I was thinking, but I was wrong. I was wrong, Rhyn.” She pulled his face towards hers. “I love you.” She pulled him to her and kissed him.

It was as though all the penned-up emotions inside her were released. Energy crackled between them, white hot, as she felt his eager response. He took her in his arms and held her, his silver eyes filled with desire and longing for her.

“Areyn’s army,” she said. Rhyn shook his head. “Don’t worry, beloved, there will be time enough for battle. Areyn won’t reach us yet.”

Lachlei stared into his eyes. “The greatest warrior,” she whispered. “And I was too blind to see.”

Rhyn’s lips caressed her throat. “You were preoccupied, beloved.” He slid her helm off and slid the mail coif to her shoulders. He began to untie her tresses and ran his fingers through her red-gold hair.

Lachlei returned his embrace as she slid from her armor. “You should have told me, Rhyn’athel. You should have told me.”

Ni’yah loped into the Lochvaur camp in wolf form. The sentries backed away as the huge silver wolf, glazed in light, came bounding in. He transmuted into his Eleion form, a Laddel warrior with radiant armor and a Sword of Power that glowed white-hot. Many of the sentries had nocked arrows, but lowered their bows.

“I am Ni’yah,” the wolf-god said. “If you want to live, you’d best bring me to Laddel and Cahal.”

Laddel strode forward through the crowd that was gathering, followed by Cahal, Tamar, and Cara. The Laddel King stared at his father for a moment. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Do you know what this means?”

“Fine way to greet your sire,” Ni’yah snapped. “How many wounded do you have?”

“Do you know this creature?” Chi’lan Kian asked, turning to Laddel .

Laddel glanced behind at the Lochvaur apprehensively.

“Tell them who I am,” Ni’yah said.

“Then, the war’s begun,” Laddel whispered.

“It never ended—tell them!”

Laddel turned to the Lochvaur . “This is Ni’yah, brother of Rhyn’athel.”

“Telek is the wolf-god?” Cahal asked. “Then, I was…”

“Your guess, young Lochvaur , was right,” Ni’yah said.

“What does this mean?” Cahal looked around. “Where’s Lachlei—she should know.”

“Lachlei already knows—she’s with Rhyn’athel,” Ni’yah said. “I need your wounded now, and I need you to stop your orders to advance. We wait on Rhyn’athel’s orders.”

A murmur ran through the Lochvaur . “Rhyn’athel? Rhyn’athel is here?” exclaimed Cara. She stared at Ni’yah. “The warrior god is here?”

“Indeed. The Chi’lan know him as ‘Rhyn,’” the wolf-god replied.

Another murmur ran through the Lochvaur . Cahal grinned broadly. “Rhyn? Rhyn has returned?” He stared at the wolf-god. “And he is truly Rhyn’athel as we thought?”

“Rhyn’athel!” laughed Tamar, clapping Cahal on the back. “By the gods! I knew there was more to Rhyn than meets the eye. And here I thought a mere mortal had bested me!” The Chi’lan warriors surrounding them chuckled in appreciation.

“I guess your reputation is still intact,” Cara remarked.

“But what of the death god’s army?” Laddel asked.

“I’ve taken care of that—we have several hours ahead of us to rest and prepare,” Ni’yah replied. “If you’re up to fighting for the warrior god,” he added wryly.

Cahal laughed. He turned to his men. “Rhyn’athel! Rhyn’athel!” he led the cheer.

Lachlei awoke beside the warrior god, still wrapped in his embrace. She slowly turned in his arms and gazed up at the stars. It was still dark, and the stars were still in the same position as they had been when they made love. They lay under his cloak, warm against the chilly air. Lachlei relaxed against him, enjoying the heat and feel of the warrior god’s body, pressed against hers.

“What is wrong, beloved?” Rhyn’athel asked. “The stars…” she began.

“Time has stopped,” he said simply.

“How?” she began and then laughed. “Of course. What about our army?”

“They are resting,” Rhyn’athel said. “They will need it for the battle.” He kissed her. “Beloved, something troubles you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me who you really were?”

Rhyn’athel sighed. “I would have, if I thought I could. I had hoped to keep my identity secret long enough to keep the Truce intact. It was foolish notion. It’s complex, beloved, but even I can’t see the entire future. Every time a god interferes, it causes the Wyrd to change. I knew Areyn was here and hoped to stop him before it came to this…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry for the deception, beloved, but it was necessary to keep Areyn from knowing that I was involved.”

Lachlei gazed at his face. “Some first-blood I am—I didn’t even recognize a god within my own Chi’lan .”

Rhyn’athel smiled wryly. “It was difficult to keep my identity concealed from you, anyway. But I didn’t lie to you when I told you I was a demon slayer.”

She kissed him. “No, you didn’t.”

“And you would’ve felt differently about me if you had known I was a god.”

Lachlei met his gaze. “Do you believe that?”

“Deities inspire awe and fear, but seldom love,” he said. “Perhaps you might not have, but I couldn’t risk it. Being a god can be lonely, Lachlei. When I saw you for the first time, I knew I had to have you. But to appear to you as a god…”

“You became mortal for me,” she said, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe it.”

Rhyn’athel nodded sheepishly. “Not one of my well-thought out plans,” he admitted.

“Rhyn, I would love you regardless of what you are,” she said, laying her head against his chest. “I am glad you returned. When you left, a part of me died.”

Rhyn’athel smiled at her use of his familiar name. “If there is anyone to blame for my return, it’s Ni’yah.”

“Ni’yah?” she grinned. “I knew that trickster wouldn’t fail me.”

Rhyn’athel stared at her. “You sent him?” he asked incredulously.

“I guess I did. He saved my life, Rhyn. I asked him to convince you to come back.” She kissed him. “I’m glad he did.”

“His meddling brought me here in the first place,” the god remarked.

“I know. He told me.”

Rhyn’athel frowned. “What else did he tell you?”

She slid her arms around his neck. “That you love me very much.” She kissed him again. Rhyn’athel responded, kissing her slowly. She pulled away and gazed into his eyes. “Rhyn,” she whispered. “Not all the kindreds are involved in this—are any of the other gods involved?”