Now, the one who claimed she was Lachlei had brushed aside Rhyn’s death as if it had been a non-event. In the past, Lachlei had not spoken of Rhyn in Council, and although Kieran knew little of the North Marches Chi’lan, Kieran knew that Lachlei had been close to Rhyn. He had seen Rhyn by her side at the coronation and in the Great Hall. She had even appointed Rhyn one of her commanders.
Kieran tried to summon the Sight, but to little avail. Like most Eleion gifted with the Sight, the visions came unbidden and in flashes. Now he saw nothing, but he trusted his instincts as a warrior. Those instincts told him that whoever this was, it was not Lachlei.
But who could he trust? Certainly not Laewynd, even if he had originally been against giving Lachlei the army. Kellachan was with the Chi’lan army—assuming he was even alive. The other Council members were dubious at best. Perhaps Moira could be trusted, but she was as political as the others.
“Is something wrong, Kieran?” Laewynd’s voice came from behind.
Kieran turned around. “I just spoke to Lachlei,” he said. “She’s behaving oddly.”
Laewynd seemed to scrutinize Kieran’s features. “Perhaps she is weary from the battle.”
“Perhaps,” Kieran agreed, but even to his ears, he sounded unconvinced.
Laewynd smiled slightly. “Is there a problem?”
“I don’t know.”
“Perhaps you should accompany Lachlei with her troops.” He paused. “For the Council.”
Kieran nodded. “For the Council,” he said.
“You will leave tomorrow before sunrise,” Laewynd said. “I suggest you get some rest.”
It was late when Wynne awoke from a dream. The older Laddel woman, who had been Lachlei’s nanny, threw her robe on and slid from bed. Seldom did she have Wyrd-dreams, but when she did, she heeded them. This one had been especially vivid.
The vision was disturbing. Troops were coming—Silren and Eltar troops from the north along with Undead and demons. They had taken Caer Lochvaren and put all to the sword. Wynne shuddered as she recalled the dream. It was clearly a warning—but how much time did she have?
She had heard Lachlei had returned to Caer Lochvaren, but Wynne had not seen her. It was odd that Lachlei would not see her own son. Perhaps Lachlei was preoccupied. Or perhaps the battle was going poorly. Her mind drifted to Rhyn. She sensed that the enigmatic Chi’lan would do all within his power to stop that from happening. But maybe that would not be enough. The demons and the Undead suggested the old enemy of the Lochvaur and Laddel had entered this world again: Areyn Sehduk.
Haellsil began crying in the other room. Wynne changed the baby, picked him up, and gently rocked him to sleep in her arms. His blue infant eyes had changed to silver now and he gazed at her with an intensity that she had also seen in Fialan. Haellsil had lost his father and would most likely lose his mother. And now, with the Wyrd-dream, Wynne suspected they were all in peril.
She put the baby back in his cradle and quietly left. Opening up the door to the main hall, she nodded to one of the few Chi’lan left to guard them both. They were sitting around the table playing a game of dice. On seeing her, they rose.
“Lady Wynne,” spoke Kerri. Kerri was a younger Chi’lan with very little experience.
Wynne smiled. “Chi’lan, I will be out for a few hours. Can you summon someone to watch over the young prince while I’m gone?”
“Certainly, Wynne,” Kerri said and paused, seeing the Laddel woman’s concern in her eyes. “Is something wrong?”
Wynne shook her head. “I don’t know, but I’m about to find out. I will return in a few hours.”
Wynne left the Chi’lan and hurried out of the main hall. The skies were overcast and threatened snow. As she approached the main gate, she hesitated. It had been a long time since she had invoked the Laddel blood-magic, but she knew if she did not, lives might be lost. She slid unnoticed out of the main gate and continued past the shops and the second gate. The lower town was teeming with Lochvaur soldiers preparing for the march that lay ahead.
With so much chaos, no one noticed as the lone Laddel woman slipped out the lower gate and into the night. The air was cold and her breath rose as frosty steam. She glanced back once and then focused on her power. Wynne felt the characteristic twist in her stomach, and when she opened her eyes she knew she had changed.
No one noticed the small gray wolf as she padded into the night.
62
Fialan stared across the plains and his heart sank. In the distance, he could see the walls and keep of Caer Lochvaren glisten in the last of Sowelu’s rays. He turned to Lochvaur, who sat on his mount, grim-faced. “They won’t have a chance against us, will they?”
Lochvaur said nothing. There was really nothing to be said. The line of Braesan warriors stretched across the Darkling Plain like an impenetrable wall. The Lochvaur warriors would die at the hands of their ancestors.
“Maybe you can tell Rhyn’athel?” Fialan said.
Lochvaur shook his head. “Areyn Sehduk knows Rhyn’athel has entered the war. Areyn has focused his entire power on blocking me and shielding the Braesan from Rhyn’athel. His shield is impenetrable.”
“Is that possible?” Fialan asked. “I thought Rhyn’athel was more powerful.”
Lochvaur turned his baleful gaze at Fialan. “He is, Fialan, but Areyn is close to his match. The Nine Worlds are a universe of opposites, my friend. For every Rhyn’athel, there is an Areyn Sehduk. Such is the way of the Web of Wyrd. If Areyn were gone, another would take his place. The Wyrd strives for balance.”
“But Areyn has grown in power.”
“He has, but so has my father.” Lochvaur sighed. “If there was one mistake my father made, it was giving Areyn the dead. Areyn uses us to fuel his fight against Rhyn’athel.”
“But he doesn’t use you?”
Lochvaur smiled grimly. “He can’t. I’m too powerful, and I’d destroy him.”
“What do we do?” Fialan asked. “Imdyr will bring my army and we will destroy them. Damn Laewynd! I never trusted him. I wish I had told Lachlei my fears.”
“What’s done can’t be undone,” Lochvaur said. “But there may be other players in this the Wyrd has yet to reveal.”
Fialan glanced at Lochvaur, but the godling’s face remained expressionless. “Other players? Have you seen something in the Wyrd?”
Lochvaur smiled slightly. “Perhaps I have.”
It was still dark when Kieran and Imdyr/Lachlei led the Lochvaur army out of Caer Lochvaren. Thirty thousand strong, they marched eastward toward the Darkling Plain into the glow of the rising sun. Once or twice, Kieran spied a small wolf or coyote following their army. It flitted through the grasses, barely noticed by anyone. Other than the wolf, there was no living creature for miles around.
“Where are we going?” Kieran asked, turning to Imdyr/Lachlei.
Odd, he thought. Even the magpies and camp-robber birds that normally followed a large army were absent. The sky was overcast, and a cold wind came from the north.
Imdyr/Lachlei smiled as she reined her horse. “We’ll be meeting up with our own warriors,” she said.
Kieran shivered slightly as he gazed on Imdyr/Lachlei. His suspicions were slowly being confirmed—whoever this was, she was not Lachlei. Her carriage was wrong for the Lochvaur queen, and he noted that she held the reins in her right hand. While Lachlei was typically ambidextrous, Lachlei held the reins with her left hand to have her right hand free for her sword. “Who are you?” Kieran demanded.