Lachlei (14 page)

CHAPTER Twenty-Eight

Lachlei sat on her mount, anger building within her. She shouldn’t have let Rhyn convince her to wait with the rest of the army. She should be with him, leading the attack. The
Silren
and the demon had killed Fialan
—
she wanted her revenge. The sheer arrogance of the
Silren
galled Lachlei and she wanted blood.

All around her, the
Chi’lan
stood ready. She had lined up five hundred longbow men behind the main cavalry. Even the archers had their mounts ready if they needed to flee. Still, Lachlei knew the longbows were the
Lochvaur’s
greatest defense. She wished she had more
Chi’lan
to use as bowmen, but she didn’t dare spread her warriors too thin.

Not that the enemy would know,
she thought. It was almost dark and in the dim light and the fog, she couldn’t see the end of her battle lines. She had forbidden the use of fire
—
it would betray their position and their numbers.

Lachlei reached out with her powers, trying to sense the battle ahead. Her Sight was limited, but she did see flashes of the battle. Rhyn’s image came to mind, and she saw him charge against the
Silren
, wielding his great Sword of Power. She watched unable to turn away from the vision, but fearful that the North Marches
Chi’lan
might die. Cahal flashed into her vision, pulling Rhyn away and the image faded. Lachlei concentrated, trying desperately to bring the vision back…

“Lachlei!” Kellachan’s voice brought her back to the present.

She turned to Kellachan as he rode towards her. “What is it, Kel?”

“Our scouts have returned
—
Rhyn is leading the retreat. They’ll be here any moment.”

Suddenly, the sounds of battle rang through the hills.

Steady!
she mindspoke to her warriors.
Don’t attack our own.

Horses and
Chi’lan
burst through the fog towards the army, some hundred yards out. The
Chi’lan
army held fast.

Rhyn led the retreat, his great gray horse moving like a shadow through the mist.
Get ready!
he shouted mentally with such power that Lachlei was certain the hills were ringing with his voice.

Archers!
she called mentally.
Steady!

The longbow men had already nocked their arrows. They pulled back, waiting for the command.

The
Silren
warriors burst through the fog, their torches lit. They rode bearing their blue and silver colors as they chased the
Chi’lan
. Some saw the army, and their horses skidded to a halt as they reined them hard, but others, intent on their quarry, continued to charge headlong towards the
Lochvaur
army.

Fire!
Lachlei shouted in mindspeak. A storm of arrows flew overhead as the longbow men released their bowstrings. Volley after volley of arrows flew towards the
Silren
, cutting down the soldiers.

Rhyn reined his horse and looked questioningly at Lachlei. She sat sternly on her mount, watching the arrows provide an invincible wall against the
Silren
. The
Silren
turned and fled, chased into the fog by the lethal rain from the
Lochvaur
archers.

But Lachlei knew it couldn’t last. She glanced at Kellachan, who rode among the archers. He nodded and gave her a knowing look.

We’ll be out of arrows within a few minutes,
Kellachan said in mindspeak.

*****

Areyn cursed as he watched the
Silren
retreat. He had expected heavy casualties, but not this great. Few
Lochvaur
had fallen in the initial attack and retreat, but now the wall of arrows seemed impenetrable.

The explosions and subsequent illusions had been impressive. So impressive that Areyn Sehduk had wondered if the wolf-god were nearby. Still, a powerful first-blood could pull it off
—
if there were one. Areyn searched his memory for Rhyn’athel’s first-bloods
—
who could possibly have such power? Fialan, certainly, but he was dead. The only other first-bloods were Fialan’s consort, Lachlei, and a cousin, Kellachan; neither had seemed very powerful. But there had been another face among the warriors that charged. A familiar face…

Slayer champed in vexation, and Areyn looked up. Already, the
Silren
line was retreating towards him. Sighing with boredom and annoyance, Areyn rode forward. The
Eltar
witch was nowhere to be seen. Typical. Imdyr had fled at the sight of the
Lochvaur
attack. He would deal with her later.

Galen rode towards him. The commander was covered in blood and grime. Some of it was his own blood
—
Areyn was certain Galen would die from a painful infection. The thought cheered him greatly.

“Their arrows are keeping us back,” Galen said. “They have longbow men.”

Areyn shook his head. “They’re almost out, you fool! Gather your men and prepare for another attack. This time, we’ll break right through their lines.”

*****

The flicker of torches through the fog told Lachlei that the
Silren
army was massing for another attack.
How many were there?
she wondered, trying to gain a sense for the numbers of dead on both sides. The fog was still thick, and now smoke choked the air.

Night had fallen, and Lachlei could see the reddish glow of the moons overhead through the thick smoke and fog. She could hardly tell the difference between the smoke and the mist anymore, but both had helped their cause. Lachlei could sense the magic that pervaded the woods around them
—
the fog and the smoke were supernatural as though a first-blood had used his power to ward off the approaching army.

Rhyn,
she thought. The first-blood
Chi’lan
had to be the reason. If it were he, then Rhyn was more powerful than Fialan had been. Indeed, she doubted the world had seen a first-blood like him since Lochvaur.

As much as Lachlei hated to admit it, Rhyn intrigued her. He was remarkably open and vulnerable — and yet, beneath the apparent openness was extraordinary power. Rhyn had admitted he was a demon killer
—
something certainly not seen since the wars between the gods
—
and he carried a Sword of Power. That alone was a relic from those ancient times.

But there was more to Rhyn than his apparent power. Lachlei felt comfortable around him in the same way she had felt around Fialan. She didn’t know why or how the
Chi’lan
had made her feel at ease, but she felt she could trust him with her life. Perhaps it was the blood. First-bloods instinctively knew each other; they shared a link with the warrior god himself.

Rhyn rode up beside her. He was covered with blood and dirt; his cloak was gone, and his armor had some rents. Although he looked unscathed, those silver eyes were no longer steady and didn’t hold her gaze long.

Rhyn is weary,
she realized. “Are you all right?” she asked tentatively.

Rhyn nodded. “We lost Trayhan and Haelle,” he said, taking a gulp of water from a canteen and then splashing the water on his face. “But we surprised them.” He paused. “How long can the archers hold the line?”

“We’re almost out of arrows,” she said grimly. “How many do you think we’ve slain?”

“Maybe three thousand,” Rhyn said. “The arrows have been keeping the
Silren
from advancing on us, but we’ve been unable to kill many more after the first assault.”

Lachlei shook her head. “That still leaves the majority of their army.” She paused. “Is there any way for us to lure them back in?”

 “I’m surprised we killed this many with the demon there.”

“Did you see the demon?”

Rhyn nodded. “Yes, but he was too far back in the lines for anyone to reach him.”

“What did it look like?”

“
Silren
,” Rhyn replied. “He’s tall and wears black armor, unlike the other
Silren
, so there’s no mistaking him. He rides a black charger I think is from Areyn’s realm.”

“How do you kill it?” she asked.

Rhyn shook his head. “You don’t. There’s a trick to fighting him.”

“I’ll kill it,” she said, biting her lower lip. The pain of losing Fialan returned as she recalled gazing on his corpse. “
Fyren
took a bite out of it
—
that means the demon can be killed.”

Rhyn looked at her curiously. “And Fialan paid for that lucky hit with his life.”

Lachlei stared at him. “What?” she said as she felt herself flush in anger.

Rhyn ran his hand across his face. “I didn’t mean it quite that way,” he said. “Forgive me
—
I’m tired.”

“It’s all right,” Lachlei found herself saying to her surprise. “You caught me off guard
—
that’s all.”

“No,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said it. Fialan was a great warrior…” His voice trailed off, unwilling to say anything more.

“But he wasn’t a demon killer,” she said, finishing Rhyn’s thought. She paused and considered him carefully. “It must take quite a bit of power to maintain this fog.”

Rhyn looked uncomfortable but said nothing.

“Cahal told me of the illusions,” she ventured. “Fialan could do illusions, but not like this.”

Rhyn shrugged. “The demon no doubt is aware of these little tricks
—
the
Silren
won’t be fooled so easily now.”

“Can you still maintain the fog?”

Rhyn nodded. “I should be able to. But that won’t help our current situation much. What should we do? We can’t wait until we run out of arrows.”

Lachlei shook her head. “I don’t know. We’re still outnumbered by over three to one.”

CHAPTER Twenty-Nine

Areyn closed his eyes, summoning the power deep within him. Areyn now called upon the hatred and desire to destroy this world. He had kept that power in check while mortal, but now, he relied on it. The rage within him fed the power. He felt the magic fill him; its power raced along his skin. Slayer began to slaver again, feeling the need to feast. Areyn Sehduk too felt the need for death. The
Silren
deaths were good, but he desired the blood of
Lochvaur
.

The fog had been troublesome. Areyn had tried to cause it to dissipate more than once, but without much success. He could cause it to dissipate in one place, only to have more roll in when he focused on another section. The enchantment was stronger than anything he had yet encountered in this world. Perhaps it was the price of assuming a mortal’s body. Akwel hadn’t been a particularly powerful first-blood
Silren
, but had been powerful enough. The mesh between the mortal’s body and Areyn’s mind hadn’t been perfect.

Reining his mount around, Areyn’s eyes flashed. “Charge! Damn you! Charge!”

The
Silren
nearby cowered. Galen shook his head. “Charge? Are you mad? The
Lochvaur
longbows will cut us down before we even reach them.”

“Are you a coward?” Areyn snarled.

Galen hesitated, meeting the death god’s gaze. “I am no coward, Akwel, but I know when we are outmatched. North Marches was one thing; fighting the entire
Chi’lan
army…”

He never finished his sentence. With a sudden shudder, Galen collapsed dead. His horse spooked and took off. Areyn turned to the others. “We fight or we die.”

*****

Lachlei drew her sword and urged her horse forward. She stared into the mist, trying to discern the power she felt all around. It was dark and sinister
—
she could feel it as she could feel it on the blade,
Fyren
. And yet, the power was different. More diffused and less tangible.

Was the demon leaving or was something else happening?

She turned to Rhyn queriously. “What am I sensing?” she asked.

Rhyn made no reply, his eyes glazed over as though in a trance.

“Rhyn?” she said.

Rhyn’s eyes snapped back into focus. “They’re charging,” he said.

“Charging?” Lachlei repeated. “Then, the demon knows we’re almost out of arrows.”

Rhyn nodded.

Lachlei turned to Cahal and Kellachan, who had ridden towards her for orders. “I want both of you to take fifteen hundred of our warriors, retreat uphill and wait for the rest of us.”

“The rest of you?” Kellachan asked.

“Rhyn and I will lead five hundred
Chi’lan
into the fray and then fall back to our next position. If we can spread out the
Silren
troops, maybe we have a better chance of killing them.” She paused and scanned the lights within the mist. “If the fog holds up, it will be our advantage.”

“But the fog is not likely to cover the higher ground,” Cahal objected.

“I think it will,” Lachlei replied. She glanced at Rhyn knowingly. Rhyn nodded in acknowledgment.
How long will Rhyn be able to keep the fog going?
she wondered.
Certainly, the demon is trying to counteract his magic.

A cry echoed through the hills
—
a scream both otherworldly and terrifying. Black fire shot through the
Chi’lan
ranks, causing even the warhorses to panic. Lachlei reined her mount. “Go! Go! Go!” she shouted to Cahal and Kellachan. “We’ll hold the lines so you can regroup!”

The two
Chi’lan
commanders turned their steeds and began shouting orders. Rhyn was already gathering the front lines, and Lachlei spurred her horse towards him. The
Silren
exploded through the fog, and a line of dark flame rolled over the
Chi’lan
. Lachlei instinctively threw up her hands, feeling the hot flames lick around her. Yet, as soon as she thought they would be burned alive, the fire dissipated. She glanced at Rhyn, whose attention was fixed ahead.

Heartened by the small victory, the
Chi’lan
archers were notching and firing what few arrows they had left. Those who emptied their quivers mounted their horses and drew their swords, preparing for the onslaught.

The
Silren
charged, and the
Lochvaur
Chi’lan
met them head on. Two
Silren
charged Lachlei on horseback, swinging their broadswords. She parried one, but was unable to block both, and the
Silren’s
sword slashed deep into her horse’s neck. The horse screamed and collapsed. Lachlei leapt off as more
Silren
charged, wielding their blades. She dodged one as he passed. She turned and cut into the second horsemen’s legs as he bore down on her.
Fyren
bit deep through bone and flesh and into the horse, itself. Both horse and rider went down and she quickly dispatched them.

Lachlei turned as another
Silren
warrior tried to run her down, armed now with a mace. Unprepared, she barely brought
Fyren
up to parry. The force of the blow sent
Fyren
flying from her grasp and threw her backwards. The
Silren
turned the battle horse and spurred it towards her, intending to trample her under the hooves. Lachlei leapt to her feet in time to see the warrior swing the mace. She dodged and with first-blood speed grasped the man’s arm as he swung.

She wasn’t heavy enough to pull him from the horse, but she unbalanced him and used his arm to leap behind the warrior. The horse bolted downhill into the
Silren
lines as they struggled. The
Silren
warrior flailed, trying to knock her from behind, but Lachlei grasped his head and with a quick snap, broke the man’s neck. She pushed the dead soldier from the horse and reined it to a stop. At that moment, she spied the demon.

He was as Rhyn had described him: a tall
Silren
wearing black armor astride a black charger with glowing red eyes. Lachlei hesitated. She had lost
Fyren
in the fight. A hand and a half bastard sword forged of fine adamantine hung from a scabbard on the horse’s saddle, but she doubted it could kill a demon. Still, this might be her only chance to avenge Fialan’s death. Lachlei drew the sword and with a yell, spurred the horse towards Areyn Sehduk.