“Perhaps,” Lochvaur said. “But I suspect he’d prefer the life force of the living over us. He did receive some energy when we all lost our lives, but it won’t be enough. Areyn will need to feed again.”
“Then he has been weakened,” Fialan said. “Surely, this is the time for Rhyn’athel to strike.”
“I wish it were,” said Lochvaur. “But Rhyn’athel’s display had its price. I suspect that flash of anger took much from Rhyn’athel, although he might not admit it. He had to overcome Areyn’s magic—no mean feat.” “Should you be saying this?” Fialan asked.
Lochvaur shrugged. “I’m telling you something Areyn Sehduk already knows. An Athel’cen’s powers are not boundless—there are things beyond their abilities, albeit few. What looked relatively effortless wasn’t. Both Areyn Sehduk and Rhyn’athel suffered for it.”
Fialan stared at the godling in amazement. He never thought that an Athel’cen might tire or require rest. Yet, Areyn required energy from the dead—did Rhyn’athel use the energy from the living? The thought intrigued him. If gods required nourishment, then perhaps they were not so different from their creations. The Eleion and Ansgar were perhaps closer to the Athel’cen than he thought. “How much did Rhyn’athel lose?”
Lochvaur shook his head. “I don’t know, but it was probably not enough to worry about. However Areyn is growing in strength because of the dead. With each death, Areyn becomes powerful.”
“But Areyn destroyed the Nine Worlds—wouldn’t that have made him more powerful?” Fialan asked.
Lochvaur smiled. “It did—and he still couldn’t defeat Rhyn’athel and Ni’yah when they combined forces. Even with all that death and destruction, Areyn Sehduk couldn’t defeat them.” He paused. “But enough of this. Let’s return to my fortress, if the demons haven’t smashed it to rubble. We’ll need rest for the upcoming battles.”
Lachlei rode silently beside Cahal. She now had her own horse—one of her Chi’lan had found a steed whose rider had perished. While Cahal urged both horses forward, she had turned around when Rhyn sent the terrible wall of flames into the Braesan. Their horses had spooked, as had the others, forcing them to flee in the opposite direction. When they both finally controlled the warhorses, they had turned and seen a glowing warrior on a hill, sword drawn, with fire pouring from his steed’s hooves. The flames had formed a wall of flame that rose hundreds of feet into the sky. She gasped as she saw tentacle-like flames wrap around the incoming demons and pull them into the fire. The roar was deafening as the fire rolled over the Braesan.
Part of Lachlei screamed as she watched the Undead Chi’lan disappear within the wall of flame. She knew Fialan was among them. Although logically Lachlei knew Rhyn had to destroy Areyn’s oncoming army, she was aware she was watching Fialan’s death.
What had she seen exactly? Lachlei wondered. What mortal could call that kind of power to bear on an army?
The Chi’lan and Laddel army had stopped in their retreat, stunned by the firestorm as it rolled over the valley. Many stood in awe as the final traces of blue flames burned themselves out along the grasslands. Hushed whispers ran through the warriors as Rhyn and Telek rode side-by-side from the knoll to rejoin the army.
Lachlei looked at Rhyn. The North Marches Chi’lan seemed unusually pale and subdued. No longer the glowing warrior, but one who looked strained and weary, he refused to meet her gaze. The Laddel warrior, Telek, rode on the opposite side. She could see that Telek and Rhyn were conversing, but could not hear their words. Telek looked up at her, and Lachlei was struck again at the similarity between them.
Concentrating, Lachlei found she could understand the conversation. The words were not quite Eleion, but were of the ancient tongue of the gods, which the Eleion language came from. She frowned. Very few knew that tongue—her mother, Ladara, had taught her some of the Athel’cen tongue, but she had never heard it spoken so fluidly before.
“…it should be possible for us to reach Caer Lochvaren before Areyn has recovered,” Telek was saying. “How badly do you think you damaged him?”
“Enough,” Rhyn said. “It should give us sufficient time.”
“How are you doing?”
Rhyn paused. He looked up as if for the first time seeing Lachlei there. “I thought you cloaked our conversation…”
“I did…” Telek began and then turned and saw Lachlei. “You understand me?”
“I do,” Lachlei replied.
Telek began to chuckle, but Rhyn held him with a look. “Twice first-blood,” Telek said, speaking in Eleion again. “We’ll discuss this later.” He rode off.
Lachlei gazed at Rhyn. “What were you so eager to hide from me? That you wounded Areyn Sehduk? Is that even possible?” Rhyn hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said.
“What did I see back there?” Lachlei asked.
Rhyn now met her gaze. “You saw what you saw, Lachlei. I make no excuse or apology for what I’ve done. I sent the Braesan back to Tarentor.”
Lachlei stared at him for some time, even though he did not elaborate. Rhyn turned his horse southwest and pressed it into a walk. Cahal looked sideways at Lachlei, who nodded. Cahal turned and barked orders to the warriors to follow. They rode southwest for miles over the rolling hills until the sun climbed high above them. Only then did Rhyn turn to her as he reined his steed and gave the orders for the army to halt. “We should camp here,” he said at last.
They were on the northern edge of Darkling Plain. As far as Lachlei could see, it would be a perfect trap to leave them exposed on the plains. “Wouldn’t we be safer in the timber?”
“Normally, I would agree, but today, no,” Rhyn replied. “We’ll care for our wounded here—tomorrow we must make for Caer Lochvaren in haste.”
“But Areyn’s army…” Lachlei began.
Rhyn shook his head. “We’ll be safe until we reach Caer Lochvaren. We need rest,” he said. He met her gaze. “I need rest.”
57
“You look awful,” Ni’yah remarked. He looked down at Rhyn’athel, who sat alone beside a fire in the encampment.
Rhyn’athel looked up, his gaze weary. “Thank you. I’ll remember that the next time you take on Areyn Sehduk.” He drank a little hot water from a cup he had let heat in the fire. The air was cold and he shivered, unable to keep warm. The sky was now overcast and it was beginning to flurry. Rhyn’athel could not remember ever feeling this miserable or suffering this much pain.
“Maybe you should shed your mortal body,” Ni’yah suggested, sitting beside him. “Go back to Athelren to recuperate…”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Some food will help.”
“It’ll take more than food,” Ni’yah remarked appraisingly. “How much protection did Areyn have around his troops?”
Rhyn’athel shook his head. “Enough.”
Ni’yah noted that he did not meet his gaze. “How much, brother?”
“Areyn was expecting me, or at least had enough defenses so that only I could destroy them,” the warrior god said. “You couldn’t have done it; his shield was carefully constructed—he’s grown in power. It wasn’t as easy as it looked to destroy those defenses to annihilate the Braesan.”
The wolf-god sat beside his brother and handed him some bread and cheese with strips of dried meat. “Eat—it’ll at least help your body.”