As he gazed at the Wyrd, it became evident that the patterns revolved around Lachlei. Imdyr was a little more than a second choice. The question was whether Rhyn’athel had entered the war. Had the warrior god sensed the change in the Wyrd? Rhyn’athel or Areyn might have even been the cause inadvertently. Ni’yah, as much as he was the lesser of the three, was still Athel’cen and might have changed the Wyrd with his presence.
Yet Areyn suspected the change came because of either himself or Rhyn’athel. Seldom did an Athel’cen affect the Wyrd in another section than where he had touched. Areyn considered the Wyrd and the thread where Rhyn’athel’s fate wove through. As an Athel’cen, Areyn Sehduk knew he should be able to read the Web, but the path that Rhyn’athel’s thread now ran through was murky and twisted. It was as though the warrior god intentionally twisted the strands so they were not readable.
“You won’t find him there.”
Areyn stiffened and turned. “I was wondering when you’d finally dare to show your face, Ni’yah. I was beginning to think you’d remain skulking in the shadows while the real warriors fight.”
Ni’yah chuckled at the insult. “Is that the best you can do, Areyn? We both know you’re the one hiding from Rhyn’athel.”
Areyn’s gaze narrowed. “Is Rhyn’athel here?”
“Can’t you see that far—or is the all-powerful Areyn Sehduk blind?”
“I think Rhyn’athel isn’t reckless enough to confront me. Peace makes a habit of platitudes and soon it becomes peace for the sake of peace.”
“I think you’ll find our brother to be far more aware of your actions, Areyn. He is, after all the more powerful of us three. It is your army that flees from the Lochvaur and Laddel.”
“That will change,” Areyn replied. “Tell our brother that if he has entered the conflict that the Truce is over and that I will do what is necessary. Even if that means the utter destruction of the Nine Worlds.”
Ni’yah laughed. “Be careful, Areyn, or you’ll twist on the World Tree, skewered by Teiwaz. You don’t want Rhyn’athel in this war. And Rhyn’athel already considers the Truce over.”
With that, Ni’yah disappeared, leaving Areyn to ponder the wolf-god’s words.
The morning sun came streaming in, awakening Cara. For a moment, she thought she was back in her room in Caer Silrenel. As she awoke, she remembered her meeting with Conlan the night before. Cara closed her eyes and let the warmth of the down bed relax her. Even before her exile, she seldom slept in a real bed because of her duties as a commander. Now, it seemed a luxury. She had been so exhausted after so many days of hard riding that she had thrown aside her armor and arming shirt and crawled into bed, falling into a dreamless sleep.
Cara had slept so soundly that she had not noticed that the servants had entered and replaced her garments with clean ones or that a bath had been drawn for her. The Elesil had a tradition of woman warriors and had spared her the humiliation of wearing a dress. The tunic and breeches were soft cotton in the silver and royal blue colors of the Silren. They had also replaced the quilted arming jacket and the padded leggings.
Cara shook her head. She was vigilant and would have normally wakened when someone entered the room. Now, she strode over to the bath that looked so inviting. Touching the water, she found that it was still hot, and slid into it. The miles of hard riding and evading the armies had taken its toll, and she allowed the simple luxury to relax her.
As she lay in the hot water, her thoughts returned to Ni’yah. The wolf-god was well known for being a troublemaker, even when he had the best intentions. But he was also the brother of the warrior god and allied with Rhyn’athel. If Ni’yah felt that she could do something to change this war in the gods of light favor, then perhaps her efforts would not be in vain.
Reluctantly, she pulled herself from the bath and wrapped herself with a thick towel. Haukel and the other warriors would be waiting for her. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she noticed how hard her body had become in recent months. Her long, white mane, streaked with flecks of silver, needed cutting again so she plaited it to keep it out of her way. Her face was striking, but not beautiful, and she bore the scars of a warrior. Her nose was offset from being broken twice, and a thin scar cut across her forehead where she barely missed being poll axed. Most men found her intimidating, being both a commander and the daughter of the king.
A knock on the door brought her from her reverie. She threw down the towel and slipped into the tunic and breeches. “Come in,” she said as she fastened her swordbelt around her waist.
Haukel entered and smiled. “You’re looking relaxed, Commander. I trust you had a good night’s sleep?”
Cara considered her captain. He, too, had cleaned up and was wearing fresh clothing, courtesy of the Elesil. “Indeed—I haven’t had a rest like that in months. I take it that our warriors have been cared for?”
Haukel nodded. “There’s food and drink in a small guest dining room just down the hall. They’re all there.”
“Good,” Cara said. “Let’s go.” Haukel led her to the room. The door was open, and her Silren were sitting around two tables with platters of fruit, breads, and cheeses. All of them wore clean clothing—some in armor; most were clad simply in tunics and breeches. Her soldiers rose on seeing her.
“Commander!” Tora spoke.
“Please sit,” Cara said as she and Haukel moved towards an empty place at the second table.
“Where’s Ni’yah?” Cara asked, scanning the room.
“Gone,” said Haukel. “His room is empty. It’s as if he never existed.” They sat down.
Cara chuckled and reached for some spiced dried fruit. “I’d be tempted to think that, except we’re here in Caer Elesilren, under the hospitality of King Conlan.”
“What do we do now?” Haukel asked.
“Well, my guess is that we’re where Ni’yah wants us to be,” Cara replied. “I’m assuming that he doesn’t expect for me to sit idly by.” She paused and smiled slyly.
“What are you thinking?”
“I am a commander without an army, and the Elesil might need a commander,” she said.
“Are you suggesting we lead the Elesil into battle against our own people?”
“No, I’m suggesting we lead the Elesil into battle against the demons,” she replied. “The Lochvaur could use our help.”
Haukel shook his head. “I don’t know if we can convince Conlan to lending us a few thousand of his troops to attack Areyn Sehduk.”
“Perhaps not,” said Cara with a gleam in her eye as she ate. “Perhaps it’s a matter of how we ask him.”
52
After breakfast, Cara led her Silren into the Elesil great hall and halted. As the doors opened, she stared at the great hall in wonder. The room glistened with white marble floors and rich, exotic wood. She strode across the three silver eight-rayed stars of the Elesil inlaid in the floor. Columns of stone rose upward to a vaulted ceiling where clerestories, filled with indigo glass, mimicked the night’s sky above. The nobles’ benches lined both sides of the hall as it led to the firepit and dais. The firepit lay before the thrones where Conlan and his queen, Rani, sat. Above the firepit, a hole opened to the sky.
Cara glanced from side to side. Although the Elesil were a brother kindred to the Silren, there were marked differences between the two. The Silren tended to be taller than the Elesil on average and had pure white manes or white manes streaked with silver. The Elesil had silver manes, similar to the Laddel, and had silver eyes; whereas, the Silren had ice-blue or silver eyes. There were other differences, much more subtle, that had more to do with their culture and philosophy. One was a warrior culture; the other, mainly agrarian.