Lachlei met his gaze. “Can you do it again, Rhyn?”
Rhyn’athel nodded grimly. “I can.”
60
Imdyr walked from the Lochvaur council’s hall. Laewynd was a fool—greedy and power-hungry—one who was easily twisted to Areyn Sehduk’s purposes.
She knew not all the Lochvaur were like him, but as long as there was one or two willing to betray the rest, the Lochvaur were defenseless. She smiled at the irony. A great kindred would be brought to ruin over one man…
“Lachlei!”
Imdyr turned to see Kieran approach. She looked at the warrior, trying to recall the names Laewynd had briefed her on. “Kieran?” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard you had returned,” he said. He stared at her quizzically with his one good eye, as though trying to determine what was different.
Imdyr smiled wanly. Perhaps this was not going to be as easy as she thought.
“We need our army,” she said. “We took massive casualties against the Silren and there are rumors that the Elesil may enter the battle.”
“What about Laewynd and the rest of the council?”
“I was in the chambers talking with him,” she said. “I convinced him that we needed the troops. He’ll talk to the others on the Council.”
Kieran stared. “We’ve never been able to get the Council to agree—especially Laewynd.”
“Well, Laewynd was the stumbling block, and now it’s all clear,” she said smoothly.
“That’s good,” Kieran said. He paused. “How bad is the damage? Who’s commanding the army now?”
“Cahal’s in command for the moment,” she said. “We’re retreating toward the plains.”
“What happened to Rhyn?” Kieran asked.
Imdyr hesitated. She did not recall Laewynd mentioning someone named Rhyn. “Rhyn? He’s dead.”
Kieran stared at her. “Are you all right?”
Imdyr began walking. The conversation was not going the way she intended it to. “I’ve been very tired,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll get some rest.”
“No doubt you’ll be seeing Wynne and Haellsil.”
She nodded wordlessly and left.
The Laddel scouts had returned telling Lachlei that the Silren were on the move again. More Silren reinforcements were only a few hours behind them. Exhausted, Lachlei, Rhyn, Telek, Laddel, and the other commanders roused the warriors for a forced march southward towards the Great Plains of Elesilren. As they rode forward, the trees soon became sparse and the mountains diminished into rolling hills. A cold wind blew from the north, making the slow trudge southward more unpleasant.
“We should find more defensible ground,” Rhyn’athel said as he rode beside Ni’yah. “We can’t afford a fight here.”
Ni’yah nodded, glancing over at Lachlei. “She seems aloof,” he said.
“I destroyed the entire Braesan army—including Fialan. Lachlei does not forgive me for that,” Rhyn’athel said, using his power to make certain that none could overhear their conversation.
“Most unfortunate,” Ni’yah remarked.
“In her eyes, I am no better than Areyn.” Rhyn’athel fell silent.
Ni’yah shook his head. “I can’t advise you on this, brother. This is something Lachlei will have to come to terms with herself. Logically, she knows you did what you had to. Emotionally, the rip in the mind-link is too new. Every time she sees Fialan, it becomes a reminder of what she lost.”
Rhyn’athel nodded, pondering the wolf-god’s words. “The others are beginning to suspect who I am.”
“Well, you don’t destroy an enemy’s army in flames without drawing some attention to yourself. Frankly, I’m not surprised.”
“Except Lachlei,” Rhyn’athel remarked. “She of all my warriors should recognize a god’s power, and yet she’s convinced herself that I’m a Guardian or a very talented first-blood.”
Ni’yah chuckled. “Indeed, those whom we are closest to we are often blind to as well. Perhaps deep inside she realizes who you really are, but she is denying it. After all, how can a mortal fall in love with a god?”
Rhyn’athel smiled ruefully. “And how can a god fall in love with a mortal?” He fell silent. “Despite your trickery to coerce me into this world, I must admit I’ve been away from Elren for far too long. I can feel their loyalty, Ni’yah. What’s more, I’m not just their god anymore—I’m one of the Chi’lan. Their loyalty is not to some detached deity, but to me. I’ve experienced what they’ve experienced, and now I’ve earned their respect. By becoming mortal, I’ve become worthy of them.”
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Ni’yah grinned. “Despite the shortcomings, mortality does have its advantages.”
Rhyn’athel chuckled. “But what to do about Areyn?” he said, becoming somber. “The Braesan are a concern.”
“Areyn now has the upper hand,” Ni’yah agreed. “We could create more warriors…”
Rhyn’athel shook his head. “Each warrior I bring forth will take power I need to fight Areyn directly. And each of those warrior’s deaths will feed Areyn. I can destroy the Braesan, but what victory does that give me? Areyn has grown too powerful for me to directly wrest the Braesan from his control. And yet, I must find a way to deprive him of the dead.”
Ni’yah grinned.
Rhyn’athel glanced at the wolf-god. “What are you thinking?”
“That occasionally, my brother, you show flashes of genius, despite yourself.”
Rhyn’athel considered Ni’yah thoughtfully. “What did I say?”
“You must deprive Areyn of his dead.”
Rhyn’athel gave Ni’yah a long, measuring look. “If I remove Areyn’s source of power, I will weaken him.”
“Indeed, and Areyn’s penchant for destroying his own warriors could be his downfall,” Ni’yah replied. “Returning a hundred thousand warriors from the dead takes power—power that Areyn must replenish.”
“And he insists on controlling them, especially Lochvaur.”
“Especially Lochvaur,” the wolf-god agreed. “Your son is draining Areyn’s power. But Areyn dares not free Lochvaur for a moment or risk losing control of a dangerous enemy.”
Rhyn’athel leaned back in his saddle. “Holding back Lochvaur would take vast amounts of energy. That much energy would drain even me. Could Areyn be relying on something else to bring the Braesan to Elren?”
“A Runestone?”
Rhyn’athel thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Areyn wouldn’t use it—it resonates too much with my own power. It might actually burn him to use one.”
“The Gateway, then,” Ni’yah said. “The Gateways are neutral ground.”
Rhyn’athel nodded slowly. “If I were wishing to conserve my power—I would use the Gateways.”
“Rather archaic, don’t you think?” Ni’yah remarked. “And not very defensible.”
“But very much like Areyn,” Rhyn’athel replied. “Areyn uses what he can against me, such as it is.”
“The Gateway would stop travel both ways—if Areyn is indeed using it.”
Rhyn’athel smiled thoughtfully. Perhaps there was a way to defeat Areyn.
61
Kieran watched as the woman who called herself Lachlei walked down the path that led from the Council Hall to the Great Hall. Already, the city was steeped in shadows as the sun had dipped behind the mountains. It felt as though it was an ominous portent. Something was wrong.
This was not Lachlei. This was not the woman whom he had fought against in one-on-one combat for the crown. This was not the woman who spared his life. The woman he spoke with now was arrogant and aloof, something he had never seen in Lachlei. Nor had the war changed her—Lachlei had fought for Lochalan in battle before. Even when Lachlei had lost Fialan, she had not acted like this.