Margaret Bonham - Lachlei

“Perhaps,” said Lochvaur, wiping the blood from his face. The baleful stare was back. “But it will be a pleasure to see you spitted on his sword, writhing in agony.”

“Go from my sight, worm!”

The smirk returned. “As you wish, my master,” Lochvaur said scornfully. He mounted his stallion and rode forward.

Imdyr gazed at the dead Chi’lan warrior as he rode off, and then she turned to Areyn. “That one will betray you.”

Areyn Sehduk laughed. “He can do naught,” he said. “But Rhyn’athel can. What other gods are with Rhyn’athel?”

Imdyr shook her head. “None save the wolf.”

“None?” Areyn smiled as he gazed at the bluffs ahead. “How many troops?”

“Sixty thousand,” she replied.

Areyn grinned. It would be a slaughter.

Rhyn’athel’s gaze suddenly became unfocused. There it was again—something elusive and yet steady. He could sense it probing his army, looking for tactical advantage anywhere it could find it. It was indefinable, shifting and changing with each shield he reinforced. His frustration built as the magic discovered apparent chinks in his impenetrable defenses.

Lachlei glanced at him. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

Rhyn’athel turned to her, anger on his face. “There’s something out there that can sense through my defenses,” he said. “It’s almost as if…” He paused and shook his head. “It’s almost as if I’m fighting a Wyrd-blood.” He gazed on Lachlei thoughtfully.

“A Wyrd-blood? You mean a god?”

Rhyn’athel smiled as realization crept into his eyes. “Of course,” he murmured. “The Wyrd-blood will hide from me, but not from you.” He paused. “Lachlei, I must use you to find the Wyrd-blood who is working for Areyn Sehduk.”

“What must I do?” Lachlei asked.

“Let me into your mind,” he said.

Lachlei nodded and at once felt Rhyn’athel’s presence inside her thoughts. She nearly became overwhelmed with his presence. He had not needed permission to enter her mind, as he swept aside her barriers as casually as she might bat away an insect. Lachlei found herself blending into the god’s mind—it was terrifying, and yet exhilarating. It was as though he had mind-linked with her, but, it was more than a simple mind-link.

Lachlei/Rhyn’athel began to search for the elusive Wyrd-blood. Lachlei could sense it probing her mind around the edges. She fought to shield herself, but felt Rhyn’athel’s power gently hold her firm.

Let it sense you , the warrior god spoke.

What did Rhyn intend to do?

Suddenly, Lachlei felt a flash of power—like a wave surge crash around them. She shivered as she saw Rhyn’athel bare his teeth and his eyes snap into focus.

I have you now …

Imdyr screamed and grasped her temples. She fell from the demon steed and thrashed in terrible pain. “No! No! No!” she cried. “Stop him! Stop him!”

Areyn watched implacably as she writhed before him. Several Eltar leapt to her aid, trying to hold her as she shook uncontrollably. Then, Imdyr became still. “Bring her to me,” Areyn said.

The Eltar dragged Imdyr before him. She was sobbing hysterically. “He found me!” She gurgled as she met Areyn’s gaze with her own wild eyes.

“Who found you?” Areyn asked.

Suddenly, Imdyr became rigid. A light that was not there before shone in her eyes. She opened her mouth, but her voice was not her own. “So, Areyn, you’ve given up your disguises,” she said.

Areyn quavered and then steeled his gaze. “Rhyn’athel.”

Imdyr smiled sardonically. “I didn’t think any of the Wyrd-blood survived our last encounter. Using a child to find me—I thought you were more powerful than that.”

Areyn’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t need the bitch to defeat you, Rhyn’athel. I have enough power and warriors enough to destroy your tiny army.”

“Foolish words spoken by a coward,” Imdyr said. “We’ll see how brave you are when you’re writhing on Teiwaz ’s blade.”

Areyn backhanded Imdyr, throwing her to the ground. “Get her out of my sight!” he snarled.

Imdyr rose and shuddered. She fled on foot, terrified of the death god. Areyn turned to the shrinking Eltar . “Prepare for battle.”

“That was cruel,” Lachlei said, gazing at Rhyn’athel. The link she had felt between them severed abruptly, leaving her empty and confused. “That poor girl…”

His eyes were emotionless. “I am not here for kindness,” he said. “The Eltar girl was Areyn’s tool to get to me—to see where he could not. I had to make her useless to him.” He smiled grimly. “You, most of all, should feel no pity for Imdyr. She would’ve given you up to Areyn had you not escaped.” He shook his head. “I should’ve realized she was a Wyrd-blood when you mentioned her name because I couldn’t see her. Only Wyrd-bloods have the power to evade a god’s powers.”

“What is Wyrd-blood?” she asked.

“Several millennia ago, the goddess Fala took Areyn as a lover.”

“Fala took that demon as a lover?” Lachlei asked incredulously.

“Areyn was not always evil, beloved,” Rhyn’athel replied. “And he is a powerful god in his own right.”

Lachlei shuddered at the thought.

“Fala gave birth to twins— Eltar and Mai—the founders of those kindreds.”

“But shouldn’t they have been gods?” Lachlei asked.

“They should have, but Fala was one of the ancient ones, the Laeca,—the ones that came before the Athel’cen . Fala’s offspring were mortal—called Wyrd-blood. Not quite gods, but their powers could circumvent some of our own. Areyn and Fala used them during the wars. The girl is the last of that line.”

“Not quite gods? Demons, then?”

Rhyn’athel shrugged. “You could call them demons, but I’ve considered them akin to my Eleion .”

“What happened to them? Did you destroy them?” Lachlei gazed at Rhyn’athel, whose emotions were now unreadable.

He shook his head. “No, though Ni’yah wanted me to do so. Perhaps I should’ve listened to him because the Wyrd twists itself into new patterns with each choice I made. Eltar , Fala, and their kindreds joined me against their sire.”

“They fought on our side?”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Rhyn’athel smiled sadly. “They paid with their lives. In the Battle of the Nine Worlds, Areyn slew all Wyrd-blood, save Lochvaur and Laddel —or so we had thought. One must have survived.”

“Lochvaur? Lochvaur is Wyrd-blood?” Lachlei asked. “I thought he was first-blood.”

“He is that, too, and much more,” Rhyn’athel replied.

Ni’yah rode up beside them before Lachlei could respond. “Areyn’s troops are advancing.” He grinned. “Whatever you’ve done, you’ve angered him.”

Rhyn’athel gazed at the oncoming lines. “Good. His temper is his downfall.” He turned to Lachlei. “I realize it is your place to make the speech before a battle, beloved,” he began.

Lachlei laughed. “That is because we have had not had you lead us.”

“Indeed,” he said with a wry smile. He rode out in front of the troops and drew Teiwaz , the Sword of Power. At once, Rhyn’athel became the fiery god she had seen before. How easily it was for him to shift between the two, she thought. The Chi’lan and their horses stood steady, but there was an awed murmur throughout the lines.

“My Lochvaur and Laddel !” he shouted, and his voice thundered over the land. “Areyn rides towards us, leading his vast army. He scorns your very existence and seeks to destroy you. And yet, Areyn knows naught of what truly you are created from. For the Lochvaur are my own, just as the Laddel are Ni’yah’s. Each one of you is a part of me. Each time Areyn takes you he robs from me…” He paused and his gaze settled on Lachlei. “No longer.”