CHAPTER Seven
Lachlei walked from the quietness of the hill. She didn’t want to leave
—
for the first time, she had felt close to the warrior god. Fialan had often told her that Rhyn’athel held the
Lochvaur
and especially the
Chi’lan
in the highest regard, but she had never felt the closeness to Rhyn’athel that Fialan felt. Fialan’s power, he had said, came from Rhyn’athel, himself.
As Lachlei turned to gaze at the dying flames of the pyre, she couldn’t help but wonder what went wrong. Why had the warrior god failed Fialan at this last moment? What creature was powerful enough to destroy a
Chi’lan
champion? She drew the sword,
Fyren
, again and gazed on the darkened blade, but did not use her powers for fear of the same reaction.
Something vile had killed Fialan.
Something vile that bled,
she thought darkly.
If it could bleed, it could die.
She sheathed the sword again. Lachlei had heard of vile creatures from Areyn’s realm. Demons capable of destroying lives. The
Lochvaur
had fought against such creatures in the times before the Truce between Areyn Sehduk and Rhyn’athel. Maybe there was one left in this world.
But the wars between the gods happened over two thousand years before. Would a demon be lurking within the Shadow Mountains all these many years without the
Lochvaur
knowing of it? Somehow, she thought it unlikely.
“Lachlei!”
Lachlei turned to see Cahal and Kellachan striding towards her.
Cahal’s face shown with worry. “We’ve been looking for you,” he said.
She smiled. “I’m sorry, Cahal, but I needed some time alone,” she said.
He nodded. “I understand
—
but you shouldn’t be without your guard.”
She sighed. “Cahal, I don’t need a guard any longer. I am not in power…”
The two men exchanged glances. “You will be,” said Kellachan quietly. “The Council has voted unanimously that you remain queen until they decide on challengers.”
Lachlei stared. “How? Who nominated me? Didn’t you tell them…” Her voice trailed off. “Gods! Kellachan!” she swore, her eyes glowing with anger. “You didn’t tell them!”
“No, I didn’t,” Kellachan said quietly. “But I didn’t nominate you. Laewynd did. No one else contested, and no one else was nominated.”
“I wasn’t consulted!”
“Lachlei,” Kellachan said. “Who else is there?”
“There’s you,” Lachlei said, but the words sounded false, even to her ears. “You’re first-blood…”
“I have no power,” Kellachan replied. “You know this
—
you and your son are the last of Lochvaur’s true heirs.” He paused. “Before you married Fialan, you were the greatest
Chi’lan
warrior we’d seen in many centuries…”
“Fialan was,” she stated.
“You were equals,” Kellachan said. “You simply deferred to Fialan because you loved him…”
Lachlei stared at her cousin, shocked at his words. “How dare you!” she snarled when she found her voice. “Fialan is barely dead and you mock his memory!” She turned and stormed off.
“Lachlei!” Kellachan began, but Cahal gripped the
Chi’lan’s
shoulder.
“Wait. Let me talk to her,” Cahal said.
Kellachan nodded. “Make sure she’s ok
—
we don’t need anything to happen to her.”
Cahal nodded and followed her. “Lachlei!”
“Leave me alone, Cahal,” she said, turning around.
“Wait
—
hear me out,” Cahal said. “Lachlei
—
the
Chi’lan
are leaderless. Without a strong first-blood, the
Lochvaur
will be vulnerable to the other kindreds.”
“I don’t want the throne.”
“Then, all the more reason you should be our queen in the interim,” Cahal said. “You won’t abuse the power.”
Lachlei shook her head. “Cahal, I can’t…”
“Why?”
“I’m not the warrior Fialan was
—
there’s never been a woman champion,” Lachlei said.
“Perhaps it’s time there was one,” Cahal replied. “We have always had women
Chi’lan
—
why not a champion? Until the Council chooses a champion, or until one wins in trial by combat, you’re the only one who can keep the
Lochvaur
together.”
“Trial by combat? A champion hasn’t been chosen like that in centuries.”
“Maybe they should
—
that’s how Rhyn’athel chose his champions in earlier times.”
Lachlei smiled wryly, wiping her eyes. “Don’t tell me you believe in those old stories?”
“Why not?” Cahal said with a shrug. “I do believe that I am looking at his next champion.”
“I’m sure others have something to say about that.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “Let’s go. Your warriors await you.”
CHAPTER Eight
The weeks that followed were difficult for Lachlei. With her appointment to queen in the interim, she had to rule the
Lochvaur
and perform her duties as
Chi’lan
as well. Laewynd, the head of the High Council, seemed content to take over her administrative duties, and for that Lachlei was thankful. Yet, as each day passed, something began to gnaw on her.
Perhaps it had been the method of Fialan’s death that left her uneasy. Perhaps it was the Sight. Rumors abounded of a massing of armies in the North. The
Silren
, it was said, were on the move. But, the
Elesil
and
Redel
were also gathering, and Lachlei suspected that the
Lochvaur
might have to defend their lands. Lachlei found herself riding outside of the Caer Lochvaren’s gates more often to clear her mind. She began to detest the confining walls now, seeking the solace of the mountains or the windswept plains.
“Scouts have returned from North Marches,” Cahal said as Lachlei rode beside him outside of Caer Lochvaren. Despite her protestations, Cahal refused to allow her to travel alone. “The news is not good.”
“The
Silren
?” Lachlei asked.
“There are signs that the
Silren
are massing. For what, we can’t be certain.”
Lachlei said nothing. Instead, she looked ahead. They were riding in the foothills of the Lochvaren Mountains, not far from the hill where Fialan’s pyre had been. The aspen and birch were beginning to change color now
—
brilliant gold and fire red against the conifers. The path was well-traveled; it made its way through a cleft and wound its way deep into the mountains.
It had been a month since Fialan’s pyre had lit the sky above Caer Lochvaren, and still nothing had been decided. The High Council had not appointed a king, and there were rumors of an impending war.
“Lachlei?” Cahal asked. He had become used to her moodiness, knowing well that she thought constantly about Fialan in her sojourns.
“Laewynd assures me that we have naught to fear,” Lachlei replied heavily. “The army isn’t mine to command…”
“What of the
Chi’lan
?” demanded Cahal. “They are your guard.”
“Two thousand,” Lachlei replied heavily. “Two thousand against the
Silren
and
Elesil
armies? Even though we are
Chi’lan
, it will be a slaughter. Laewynd assures me that something will be done if the
Lochvaur
are attacked.”
“Laewynd,” Cahal spat. “A disgrace to the
Chi’lan
if there was one.”
“He is our oldest and most experienced warrior,” Lachlei said.
“Laewynd is a coward,” Cahal replied. “He became
Chi’lan
to become a member of the High Council
—
nothing more. He is no warrior.”
Lachlei smiled slightly at his outburst. “Fialan thought he was useful.”
“Fialan knew how to use the Council,” Cahal said. “He didn’t let Laewynd get his way. How old is he? Five hundred years, if a day.”
Lachlei chuckled. “He did avoid the
Chi’lan’s
early death,” she admitted. “But you can hardly blame him. I have no desire to meet the death god, either.”
Cahal shrugged. “None of us do, Lachlei, but we are still
Chi’lan
and bound to serve the warrior god. I see none of that loyalty to Rhyn’athel. I only see ambition.”
“As do I,” Lachlei admitted. “But Laewynd is happy to work behind the scenes
—
not take power. That is his way, Cahal. Laewynd is the High Council, and the High Council is Laewynd. I must work with him if I am to have the army.”
Cahal shook his head. The late afternoon sun was already behind the mountains and the shadows were long. “We should be heading back, my queen,” he said. “It will soon be nightfall.”
Lachlei nodded, feeling tired. “Indeed,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m a disappointment to the
Chi’lan
,” she said softly as they rode side-by-side.
“Disappointment?” Cahal asked sharply. “Why do you say that?”
“I can see it in my warriors’ eyes,” she said. “I let the Council make me queen for the interim because there was no one else, and yet, I feel powerless. I’m not the champion Fialan was.”
Cahal smiled. “Maybe you should not try to be like Fialan,” he said. “Fialan was a great warrior, but you are not Fialan. Maybe Rhyn’athel has different plans for you.”
Lachlei halted her horse and stared up at the hill overlooking Caer Lochvaren. They were at the base of the hill now. “Perhaps he does,” she said. She dismounted and handed him the reins. “I want to be alone for a while.”
“I’ll wait,” he said knowingly. Lachlei nodded and walked up the hill.
*****
Rhyn’athel stared into the twin suns of
Athelren
; their golden glow bathed the world in warmth. It was springtime now in the high mountains where the warrior god’s shimmering white-walled fortress stood. Even on the fortress parapets, the drowsy smell of pine reached Rhyn’athel’s nostrils as he looked over his world.
The mountains, covered with spruce, pine, and other coniferous trees stretched for miles in all directions. To the west, the rivers poured into the great sea. To the east and south, vast tracts of fields and fertile ground stretched endlessly. Rhyn’athel knew he had created the perfect world when he had created
Athelren
.
And yet, his mind strayed to
Elren
—
the fifth world
—
and to the
Chi’lan
woman who inhabited it. For weeks, Rhyn’athel tried to put Lachlei’s vision from his mind, but each time his thoughts returned to her. She was beautiful and strong
—
a warrior among warriors
—
and he felt himself drawn to her, despite logic or reason.
Now, a month later, Rhyn’athel decided to return to
Elren
.
Athelren
held no pleasure for him, and he longed to see Lachlei again. It violated the Truce, but he reminded himself that if he did not show himself to Lachlei, Areyn Sehduk was unlikely to know he had entered the Middle World.
Rhyn’athel appeared within the forest on the hilltop overlooking Caer Lochvaren where he last saw Lachlei. It was dusk in
Elren
, and he glanced at the sky as the first stars became visible. He was going to look for Lachlei when he saw her walk along the stone path to the hill’s summit where he had seen her make her blood oath.
Lachlei was as beautiful as he remembered her, and he caught his breath as she turned and looked his direction. She was smaller than he remembered
—
her height due to her
Laddel
inheritance
—
but she was as beautiful. She wore her mail as she had the night he had seen her.
She looked at him. Rhyn’athel knew she could not see him, despite her first-blood powers, but felt a shiver as their gazes met. Seeing her beneath the stars, he was entranced. “Rhyn’athel,” she whispered. “Rhyn’athel
—
do you even hear your
Chi’lan’s
prayer? Something terrible killed Fialan; the Council sits and does nothing. The
Chi’lan
are leaderless. Help us.”
Rhyn’athel stood close to her
—
so close that he could have touched her and taken her in his arms. But he would then give himself away and violate the Truce. But hadn’t his presence already violated the Truce? To hold her this once…
“I was wondering where you were.”
Rhyn’athel turned and saw Ni’yah leaning against a tree. “Ni’yah…” Rhyn’athel growled and the wolf-god smiled wryly. “You troublemaker!”
Ni’yah grinned. “This isn’t keeping with the Truce, is it?”
“You knew I’d fall in love with her!”
Ni’yah retreated, his hands open in a helpless gesture. “I didn’t exactly
know
,” he said. “More like
suspected
you might.” He grinned at Rhyn’athel’s scowl.
“You would have a war started for the sake of a woman!”
“For the sake of the Nine Worlds,” Ni’yah replied. “Lachlei was just the bait. You know this was due for some time.”
“Indeed,” Rhyn’athel admitted reluctantly, his gaze drifting back to Lachlei. “Are you certain that Areyn is here?”
“What do you think?”
Rhyn’athel nodded. “Very well,” he said at last.
Much to Rhyn’athel’s annoyance, triumph gleamed in Ni’yah’s eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t let the
Eleion
down.”
“But I can’t remain here
—
not without Areyn detecting me,” Rhyn’athel said. “What can I do?”
“We can beat Areyn at his own game,” Ni’yah said. “We know he is in mortal form now, but he wouldn’t expect you to take mortal form.”
“I’ll become an
Eleion
—
a
Chi’lan
.” He grinned. “Brilliant, my brother.”
“They don’t call me a trickster god for naught.”
“But, won’t Areyn recognize me?”
“He shouldn’t
—
not if you keep your power and your defenses up,” Ni’yah said. “You should garner no more attention than a powerful first-blood. Unless he presses your defenses, Areyn will never know.”
Rhyn’athel nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Ni’yah stared at his brother. “Now?”
Rhyn’athel turned to gaze on Lachlei. She had sat cross-legged on the ground, looking up into the sky. Now, she stood up slowly, rubbing the stiffness from her limbs. She turned for a moment to look towards the two gods. Even though Rhyn’athel knew she couldn’t see or hear them, he nearly held his breath as she looked at the place where he stood. Again, he desired her. Perhaps he could have her if he were
Eleion
…
“Rhyn’athel?” Ni’yah’s voice brought him back. “Are you sure you wish to do this?”
Rhyn’athel grinned. “Never more certain,” he said.