Rhyn’athel took the food and bit into the cheese and bread before trying the meat. It was hard to tear off. “You could’ve brought better food.”
“I thought you wanted the mortal experience.”
Rhyn’athel met his brother’s gaze and chuckled. “That I did.”
“If Areyn’s defenses were that strong, then he knew you were here,” Ni’yah said, returning to the subject.
“Perhaps—or perhaps he only suspected and that was a trigger point,” Rhyn’athel replied, biting into the bread. “Whichever, he knows I’m here now. Areyn will take this war to the next level.” He shook his head. “I can’t leave—not now. Certainly not with his demons hunting Lachlei.”
“I could protect her,” Ni’yah said.
“Maybe, but I’m not willing to risk it.”
Ni’yah paused. “Speaking of Lachlei, here she comes. We’ll talk later.” With that, he left.
“Rhyn?” Lachlei called. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Rhyn smiled weakly. “Lachlei—I’m sorry. I needed some food and rest.”
She considered him. His face was still pale and he looked tired. “Laddel’s scouts inform me that we’re not being pursued,” she said. “How did you know?”
“I am not what I appear.”
Lachlei smiled slightly. “I’ve noticed.” She paused and waited, but Rhyn did not offer an explanation. “Telek and you seemed to be having an interesting conversation, in Athel’cen, no less. Are you a Guardian or something else?”
Rhyn hesitated. “It’s difficult to explain.”
“Just like your son?” she asked pointedly.
Rhyn’athel met her accusatory gaze in bewilderment. “My son?”
“You never told me you were married,” Lachlei said.
Rhyn’athel frowned in puzzlement. “I wasn’t.”
She stared at him. “And you had a son? What of his mother?”
“It’s very complex, Lachlei, and I really can’t explain it to you right now…”
“Why not?” she asked. “Is she still alive?”
“You were married,” he pointed out. “You have a son, Haellsil.”
Lachlei met his gaze. “A son isn’t something you hide from a lover…”
“Are we lovers?” Rhyn asked. “I would like to be yours…”
“I have never hidden my love for Fialan,” she said. “And now…” Her voice cracked and she fell silent. She turned away, unable to speak. Her mind was filled with a vision of Fialan. It brought back all the sorrow and pain of losing him. Her soul still ached with the loss of the mind-link. She closed her eyes. “It’s Fialan, isn’t it?” he said.
She turned to him. “He’s alive, Rhyn—I don’t know what I was thinking when we almost…”
“Lachlei,” Rhyn said patiently. “Fialan is lost to you—just as my son is lost to me. Areyn has given them shells, but their souls are tied to him as surely as if they were in Tarentor. They fight for Areyn now, and there is nothing anyone can do to change that.”
“I don’t believe that,” she snapped. “You’re saying that Areyn Sehduk is more powerful than Rhyn’athel? That he can bring back the dead and Rhyn’athel can’t?”
“It’s more complex than that!” Rhyn said, his voice rising.
“Is it?” she replied. “Explain it to me! Tell me why the Lochvaur should serve Rhyn’athel instead of Areyn. Tell me why we’re fighting this war when we all go to the demon god in the end. Tell me why your son serves Areyn Sehduk, demon-slayer.”
Rhyn stared speechlessly at her. When he regained his voice, it was in a low, throaty growl. “You would defy the warrior god?”
“I would—if Rhyn’athel is truly so weak,” she snapped. “Tell me why Rhyn’athel wasn’t among us today. Why we must face our own people in battle. Why Fialan is dead…”
“Fialan is dead because Areyn Sehduk slew him,” Rhyn said, his tone icy. “Rhyn’athel was with you today, whether you believe it or not. Areyn has ignored the Truce.” He paused, rage glowing in his eyes. “And don’t you dare defy the warrior god again.”
Lachlei found that she could not move. For the first time, she was actually afraid of Rhyn. But, when she spoke, her voice was steady. “Why such loyalty, Rhyn?” she asked softly. “You’ve been betrayed by Rhyn’athel, as I have. Look where we are. Look what we’re fighting.”
“Because Rhyn’athel created you as he created the Nine Worlds. His blood runs through our veins, Lachlei,” Rhyn said.
“Then he needs to take responsibility for what has happened,” she said. She stood up and left.
Rhyn watched her leave. As Lachlei left, she thought she heard him say: “He has, Lachlei. He has.”
Imdyr rode across the windswept plains south towards Caer Lochvaren. Cloaked in invisibility, she rode past the Chi’lan and Laddel armies as they bivouacked in the cold fields under the graying sky. Imdyr paused and reined her horse. She guessed by the size of the army that they had maybe thirteen thousand. Most of the dead in battle had been Laddel, but the Chi’lan had taken a substantial loss.
She gazed on the encampment, trying to sense the warrior god. Areyn Sehduk had a right to fear this Athel’cen, if Rhyn’athel could sweep aside the death god’s powers like wind through dry leaves. Despite the tremendous power Areyn wielded and her loyalty to the gods of darkness, Imdyr felt drawn towards Rhyn’athel’s power. The strength and resolve was beyond anything she had experienced.
Imdyr hesitated. Entering the camp of her enemy seemed unthinkable, and yet, she hungered for Rhyn’athel’s power.
You’ll regret your decision, dark one.
Even now, the godling’s words taunted her. She had given herself completely to the demon god. Now, there was regret. Areyn was right when he said she was just a tool for him to use. Like any tool, once used and broken, she too would be cast aside. In her lust for power and control, Imdyr found she had none. Areyn had control. She would have nothing. She hated Areyn now. There were no rewards for servitude—only death. Even the Silren who now served him from fear were slowly being destroyed to sustain Areyn Sehduk’s power. And what use would she be when he was through with her?
Yet, Imdyr had seen hope in Lochvaur’s defiance. Lochvaur had no fear of Areyn, only hatred. Imdyr still might be able to turn from Areyn’s power. Yet, even as she thought this, Imdyr knew she could not. Not now. If she entered the Lochvaur camp, Rhyn’athel would learn her secret and destroy her. How could he not? There would be no forgiveness now.
I know what you carry, Lochvaur had said.
How could the godling see where Areyn could not? If Lochvaur could see, then Rhyn’athel surely could. Imdyr shuddered. She was twice cursed. She dug her heels into the steed and rode past the army towards Caer Lochvaren.
It took Imdyr a few days to reach the city-fortress of the Lochvaur. She gazed at the stone walls, keep, and the palisade fence wall that encircled the lower area of the city. The buildings within were wooden, not stone. She doubted that even the great hall or the council chambers were made of anything better than wood.
She paused now and focused on her face and hair. As she concentrated, she held the vision of Lachlei in her mind’s eye. Her hair became red-gold and her eyes became silver. The trappings of her horse shifted to gold and red. Her own armor changed to silver in color and her surcoat was red and gold.
When the transformation was complete, Imdyr knew she looked exactly like the Lochvaur queen. Only the most powerful Eleion or a god would be able to see through her guise. She spurred the horse forward and entered through the gates. The guards saluted her as she rode in, but Imdyr ignored them. Riding through the lower gate and upward towards the main gate of the city, she barely glanced at the wooden shops and homes, nor at the people who were preparing for a siege. Lochvaur soldiers were everywhere, but again, she paid them no heed nor bothered to salute as she passed. At last, she reached the hall where the Lochvaur council sat. She dismounted, thrusting the reins into a guard’s hand and strode in.