Margaret Bonham - Lachlei

Ni’yah broke into a grin. “At last!” he said in a low voice that only Lachlei could hear.

Lachlei glanced at Ni’yah. What could this mean? she wondered, not daring to hope…

“We fight today, not just for our lives, but for our futures,” he said. “Mortal you are, and mortal you will be, but it will be my choice now, not his. You will fight today, but you do so for your freedom. Freedom from Areyn!”

The warriors banged their swords against their shields. “Rhyn’athel! Rhyn’athel!” they chanted.

“Fight with me, die for me, and you’ll be rewarded,” Rhyn’athel said. “Live and you will see a greater world!”

“Rhyn’athel! Rhyn’athel!”

Rhyn’athel rode back into the lines. “They’re at the bluffs,” he said, turning to Lachlei. “Give the command to fire.”

Areyn’s army had halted its advance. The rolling fields of Darkling Plain had given way to a bluff that rose from several hills and joined the foothills of the Lochvaren Mountains. The bluff wasn’t steep, but its rocky slopes and winding cart path made for a difficult charge.

Areyn Sehduk rode forward on his demon steed. The Eltar and Silren parted in sheer terror, but the dead Chi’lan warriors held their ground. Their silver eyes gazed at the death god in contempt—there was no fear in the Braesan . Fialan sat on his steed beside Eshe and watched as the death god approached Lochvaur, who stood beside his charger. The son of Rhyn’athel met the death god’s gaze fearlessly.

“Why have you halted?” Areyn demanded, dismounting the demon steed. “The Lochvaur are up there.”

“I will not lead them,” Lochvaur replied. His silver eyes held contempt for the god.

“You will not?” Areyn demanded. “You have no will save mine. You do as I command.”

Lochvaur laughed. “Rhyn’athel has suffered your insolence enough, as have I. Soon you will have no control over us.”

Eshe turned to Fialan. “What is he doing? Baiting Areyn?”

Fialan shook his head in wonder. “I don’t know,” he whispered.

Areyn raised his mace to strike Lochvaur, but the godling caught his wrist. “I wouldn’t be too eager to inflict punishment, Areyn,” Lochvaur said menacingly. “My father will take each blow out of your own hide.”

“You will do as I say,” Areyn growled, but lowered the weapon.

“For the time being,” Lochvaur said. “But we are walking into a trap.”

“A trap?” Areyn laughed. “Your sire has only sixty-thousand troops. I hardly call it a trap. Attack now!”

Lochvaur smiled coldly. “As you wish, my lord,” he said sardonically. “It will be a pleasure to die for you one last time.”

Lachlei brandished her sword and rode out, her gaze on the approaching army below. “Archers—Ready!”

The longbow men nocked their arrows and pulled back. “Mark your targets!” she heard Cahal order them.

There were Lochvaur among Areyn’s troops , she reminded herself. Lochvaur such as Fialan …

“Steady!” she shouted as she saw the Braesan charge the hill.

Forgive me, my old friends , she thought.

Trust me , came Rhyn’athel’s voice in her head.

Her face became grim. “Fire!” she shouted.

A maelstrom of arrows flew overhead. They roared as they flew towards their targets. Wave after wave of arrows arced across the sky and slaughtered the charging warriors. Lachlei watched in amazement, half expecting fire to come raining down on her troops as it had at Caer Lochvaren.

Yet when the flames came, they came not from Areyn, but from Rhyn’athel. Blue ethereal flame shot across the sky and arced into Areyn’s army. Areyn’s warriors fell as they charged. Braesan , Silren , and Eltar bodies lay in piles as they fell and still, they came.

Lachlei stared at the bodies and the fire in wonder. She turned and saw Rhyn’athel smiling as he watched the decimation of Areyn’s army. “Where is Areyn’s counter?” she asked.

“Where indeed?” Rhyn’athel chuckled. He glanced at Ni’yah knowingly as though they shared a private joke.

“Take away his source of power,” said Ni’yah calmly, “and he has naught to strike with. Ironically, he is doing it to himself.”

Arrows hailed around Areyn Sehduk’s army, cutting down the living and dead alike. Adamantine tipped, the arrows killed demon as well as Eleion ; dead as well as living. The arrows felled the Braesan ; their bodies disintegrated in the air.

Fialan and Eshe rode forward, despite the hail of arrows. Fialan knew he could not disobey the death god’s commands, and yet, he stopped and watched as the battle commenced. Something was wrong. With each dead soldier, there should have been two to take their place—and yet, the bodies were piling fast. The demons were coming through the ranks, and the arrows cut them down, too.

“Fialan!” cried Eshe as she fell from her horse, an arrow piercing her chest.

“Eshe!” Fialan cried. Knowing the pain he would suffer, Fialan dismounted and ran to her. He held her in his arms. She was coughing blood.

“Fialan,” she said hoarsely. “Something is wrong.”

“You’re wounded,” Fialan said, looking at arrow protruding from her chest. “If I only I could heal you…”

“No, something is wrong with Areyn—don’t you feel it?” she said.

Fialan looked up. The numbers of advancing troops were thinning. “There are no replacements.” He grinned. “We should be regenerating…”

“But, we’re not,” Eshe said triumphantly. “Rhyn’athel has broken Areyn’s power.”

Fialan paused. “But, then you will die…”

“We are already dead, Fialan.” With that, the life force within the shell vanished, and she crumbled into dust.

Fialan bowed his head and wept. He never saw the flames as they engulfed him.

Areyn snarled in rage as the ethereal flames raced down the bluff towards the Braesan and the other warriors, powerless to stop it. Areyn drew on the energy of the dead, shielding part of the army against the torrential flames. Yet, with their deaths, there was nothing. Their life forces no longer fed him. Frantically, Areyn tried to draw his soldiers from his world, only to find the gateway shut.

The shield collapsed, and the ethereal fire consumed all in its path.

The living Eleion broke ranks and fled in terror. Only the demons remained. Areyn drew on their dark power, such as it was, and established a shield. He turned to a demon captain. “Flank them!” he shouted. “Take five thousand and crush his army while I attack with the rest.”

Areyn watched as the demon captain left. Rhyn’athel and Ni’yah had somehow effectively broken his link between his own world and this one.

And his own dead were given him nothing in power—nor had the living, for that matter. It was as though his power source had simply vanished. Without the dead to feed from, Areyn was weakening. He would have to return to his realm, accepting defeat once again. Unless…

There was still the Fyr —the Eternal Fire.

Lachlei gazed at the slaughter below them. She turned to Rhyn’athel who grinned at her. “How?” she asked. “Rhyn, how did you stop Areyn?”

“Areyn relies on the dead for his power, beloved,” Rhyn’athel said. “He assumes he can bring as many dead as he needs.”

“You had Ni’yah close the Gateway in the north,” Lachlei said, the answer dawning on her. “Areyn used the Gateway to bring the dead through.”

“Normally, he would use his own powers to bring them forth, but his time in this world has weakened him,” Rhyn’athel remarked. “He’s had to feed to keep the Silren guise and has had to feed to keep both the living and dead under his control. And, he has had to maintain a shield to keep me from finding him…”