The Silren were never as numerous as the Elesil, but were greater fighters.
The Elesil were more content to stay in their lands and obtain what they needed through trade. Both methods had served them well. Until now.
Cara strode forward past the Elesil nobles and stood before Conlan and Rani. Rani was typical of most Elesil women, tall, beautiful, and fair skinned. She smiled graciously as she looked on Cara. Cara nodded, now realizing how different their worlds were.
“Conlan tells me that you’ve come seeking the Elesil aid,” Rani said.
“I have,” Cara said. “I am Cara, Daughter of Silvain.”
“It appears that your father has sent a messenger as well,” Rani said. “He has asked that the Elesil join the Silren in defeating the Lochvaur kindred.”
A low murmur ran through Cara’s warriors. Cara held up her hand for silence. “Messenger—what messenger?” she asked.
Conlan’s gaze shifted to a Silren warrior who stood among the Elesil nobles that Cara had missed. Cara’s eyes narrowed as her gaze fell on the warrior. It looked Silren, but was not. Silren-like, it had a long white mane and ice-blue eyes, but beneath the armor and the flesh, there was something else. Something sinister. The creature met her gaze coldly. “Your father wanted me to send his regards.”
“Gods—what is that, Conlan?” she demanded, her hand on her hilt as she stepped forward.
“What do you mean?” Conlan said in confusion.
The Silren messenger strode forward. “What is wrong, Cara? Or do you go against Silvain’s wishes?”
“I don’t know you,” she said. “I know every warrior in my father’s personal guard, and you’re not any of them.” Cara could feel Haukel’s gauntleted hand grip her arm. She shot him a look. Be ready, she mindspoke to her warriors. Haukel released her, and Cara strode forward towards the messenger.
The creature met her gaze. “I joined your father’s guard after you left.”
“Indeed, I would say he made a poor choice.” Cara used her powers to try to sense what was behind the body. She felt a hard, cold shove, and the creature’s eyes glittered menacingly.
“I don’t know what you are, but you’re no Silren,” she growled.
“Nonsense, I am everything Silren,” the creature said, drawing closer.
The creature made its move, but Cara was faster. She drew her adamantine blade and brought it down on the creature, cleaving through armor, bone, and sinew. Conlan yelled, but the Silren warriors already had their swords out to protect Cara as she fought the beast.
“Wait, your majesty,” Haukel said.
The Silren messenger shed its body and grew in size. What stood before Cara was an arch-demon. Conlan and Rani withdrew in horror as Cara and the demon circled. The Elesil guards halted and stared.
“What should we do?” Conlan asked.
“Have your men ready with crossbows. Do you have adamantine-tipped quarrels?” Haukel asked.
“Yes.” Conlan’s eyes glazed over slightly as he relayed the message via mindspeak to his guards. “We should help her. My men are at the entrances so it can’t escape.”
Haukel shook his head. “I’ll come in if she can’t handle it, but she’s as good as a Chi’lan warrior—maybe better.”
The demon leapt at Cara. Cara slashed, dodging the sharp talons as they threatened to cut through her clothing. Now she cursed her decision to not wear mail. She had not expected a fight in the king’s great hall.
The demon screamed as she sliced through its talons. Black blood splashed everywhere, and the demon charged, its blood-red eyes glowing. Cara retreated, but the demon pressed her. As the demon brought its claws around she dodged beneath its wounded arm and leapt onto its back. The demon screamed, swatting at her. Cara plunged her sword deep into the demon’s back and rolled off as it thrashed.
“Now!” shouted Cara. The guards let loose a hail of quarrels. The demon staggered and fell. Cara wiped the blood from her face and walked over to the body. She pulled her sword out.
“Are you all right?” Conlan asked as he stood beside her. “What is it?”
Cara nodded. “I’m fine. It’s one of those demons that have control of my kindred, Conlan. If you fight with my father’s kindred, you, too, will be under its control.”
Conlan looked at the demon and shuddered. Even now, the body was beginning to disintegrate. “What do you need, Cara of the Silren, to stop the demons?”
“We must stop the Silren from destroying the Lochvaur before it is too late,” she said. “We fight the death god, himself.”
Conlan looked grim. “We will destroy the demons together,” he said.
“Consider the Elesil army your allies.”
53
You stupid fool, Ni’yah remarked. The wolf-god had appeared beside Rhyn’athel as he stood outside of his mortal body. You took on an arch-demon. Areyn will now know you’re here.
Rhyn’athel glared at his brother and then turned to watch Lachlei kneeling beside his body. I’m mortally wounded, aren’t I? Rhyn’athel asked.
Yes, your body is dying, he replied. If you want to get the full effect of it, you can reenter it again.
But Rhyn’athel wasn’t listening. Instead, he stared at Lachlei. What is she doing? he asked in incredulity. He knew the answer. Lachlei’s hands pressed against the wound, power flowing from her fingers: she was trying to heal him with her first-blood powers.
That wound is beyond most first-bloods, Ni’yah said, a grim smile on his face. I’ve only seen Lochvaur and Laddel heal something that grievous.
Rhyn’athel stared. Could she do it?
Doubtful, Ni’yah said.
She’d die in the attempt, the god said in wonder.
Lachlei’s gaze was on Rhyn’s graying face. Rhyn’athel, she thought. Rhyn’athel, if ever there was a great Chi’lan champion, it is Rhyn. He took the blow intended for me.
Very altruistic of you, Ni’yah remarked sarcastically. Are you going to let her sacrifice herself?
Rhyn’athel glared again at his brother. Did I ask your help? He knelt down beside her as she focused on his wounds. The claw had damaged his heart, torn into a lung, and then ripped through the blood vessels. No man, not even his son, Lochvaur, could withstand such a blow even with a first-blood healer present. And yet, could he make it look like she had healed him?
He felt her power pour into his body, healing what she could, but Lachlei was getting weaker. Areyn would already know Rhyn’athel was there—perhaps it didn’t matter how. He focused on her, pouring his own power into her to channel back into his body. Lachlei grew stronger with the surge, and Rhyn’athel could feel the pull of the mortal body again. The color was beginning to return to his face, and he let himself be pulled back into the shell.