Another Chi’lan named Tragar laughed. “Wynne, what do you mean?”
“We must leave now!” Wynne said, pushing by them and entering Lachlei’s quarters to pick up Haellsil and some items.
Kerri followed her inside. “Why? I heard Lachlei was with our troops.”
Wynne whirled around. “That was not Lachlei. It was a shapeshifter—an Eltar sorceress who serves Areyn Sehduk.”
Kerri stared at Wynne. “Are you insane? Of course that was Lachlei.”
Suddenly an explosion threw them to the ground. Wynne clutched Haellsil desperately to prevent him from falling. The infant began crying.
“What in the gods’ names?” Kerri exclaimed.
Tragar threw open the door. “We’re under attack!”
“Attack?” Kerri gasped and glanced at Wynne who nodded.
“We won’t be able to win this. There’s a secret passage that leads out of the city,” Wynne said. “Without the army, Caer Lochvaren is indefensible.”
Kerri nodded. “Do you know the way?”
“I do,” Wynne said. “Gather the Chi’lan and anyone else you can find and follow me.”
“What is going on?” Laewynd demanded as the demons dragged him before Areyn.
Areyn smiled condescendingly. He wondered how blind Laewynd actually was to the true nature of what held him. The demons had assumed Silren bodies—the guise was incomplete, and even a Lochvaur without a drop of god’s blood in his veins would have seen it.
But Laewynd was blinded by greed. Areyn had seen this before in many men and used their desires to twist them to his own end. At last, the death god would taste the High Council’s blood.
“You promised!” he whined. “You promised I’d be king over Caer Lochvaren.”
“And so you are,” Areyn said. “You are king over all you survey.” He laughed. Laewynd shuddered. “That Eltar bitch…”
“Has done my bidding,” Areyn said. “As you will serve me one last time.”
The roar of demon flame drowned out Laewynd’s screams.
Flames engulfed Caer Lochvaren as the demons descended on the Lochvaur city. The Silren rode through the gates, slaughtering anyone who dared oppose them. Demons attacked from above.
“There’s a portal that leads into the mountains!” Wynne shouted above the roar. People were following her and the few Chi’lan guard, hoping to escape the slaughter as the fire swept across the buildings.
Wynne held Haellsil close to her. They had made their way through the back alleys to where the keep stood. “Tragar, there is a passage which leads from the keep to a cave within the mountains.”
“To me! To me!” Kerri shouted as another volley of fire rained down and she saw people flee in panic. “Gods! We’ve got to get people out of here!”
Wynne shook her head. “Chi’lan, the city is already lost.”
“I don’t believe that,” said Tragar. “Kerri, Garhan, you take Wynne and Lachlei’s son to the passage. Zars, Niels, and I will round up whoever we can.” He led the other two Chi’lan warriors away.
Kerri’s grim expression told Wynne that she did not believe they would see Tragar or the others again.
“I’m sorry, Kerri,” Wynne said. “I only wish I had found out in time.”
Kerri paused as they entered the keep. People pressed around them as Kerri threw open the doors to the keep. “It’s all right. If he can find a way to get out, he will. Tragar is Chi’lan.”
Tragar was Chi’lan, but even a Chi’lan would not survive, Wynne thought darkly as the crowd jostled her towards the escape tunnel. She said nothing of her thoughts, instead winding her way down the stairs that were carved from the native stone. It was slick with moss, and Wynne held Haellsil close as she stepped downward. One fall and she was likely to never stand up again with the throng pushing around her.
Darkness swallowed them. Wynne could feel the panic rise within her until her eyes adjusted. She felt a firm hand and looked to see Kerri pulling her along. “Come on, Wynne, we’ll be out of here soon.”
The sound of the battle became muffled and then—nothing. The silence was eerie. All Wynne could hear were the ragged breaths of those around them. How far? she wondered.
“There’s a door!” came a voice. Wynne could barely discern oaken doors ahead. She watched as several warriors pulled the bar away from the doors. They pushed, and a crack of light streamed in. The crowd surged and shoved the doors open. Wynne nearly stumbled as the throng forced her out and into the blinding light of morning. She nearly wept to see the red rays of Sowelu as it crested the mountains and feel the cold mountain air. They stood amid the pines as more Lochvaur left the tunnel.
“You’re all right,” said Kerri. Wynne touched her face and realized she was weeping. Haellsil began crying.
Wynne picked up a skin of milk she had brought. “I’m all right,” she said. Though where they would go, she had no idea.
Lachlei reined her horse and gazed into the valley where, just beyond, lay the shining walls of Caer Lochvaren. She turned to Rhyn and smiled. “Gods, Rhyn, it’ll be good to be behind Caer Lochvaren’s walls again.”
Rhyn returned the smile, but he was not as certain. Something was nagging him, even though his connection to the Wyrd seemingly showed everything to be all right. Something was wrong, but he could not place what it was.
Telek met his gaze. What do you suspect? His wolf eyes mirrored his concern.
I don’t know, Rhyn said. Areyn’s power was growing, but how he was not sure. They continued riding into the valley, apparently unchallenged.
The valley was actually a series of hills that led to the plain which Caer Lochvaren overlooked. The approach was concealed—if one did not know that the city was there, it could be easily missed.
Even as they rode, tension began to mount. Rhyn said nothing, but continued to reach out with his senses, trying to discern something wrong. He felt Areyn’s shields and found them impenetrable. Was that even possible? he wondered.
It was when they climbed the hill that overlooked the valley into Caer Lochvaren that both Lachlei and Rhyn reined their horses in disbelief. Smoke rose over what had been Caer Lochvaren. The gates were ripped asunder and the walls laid low.
“By Rhyn’athel’s sword!” gasped Lachlei. “Areyn has been here!”
64
The Elesil and Silren army rode down the hill into the battle. Kieran turned to fight the next Braesan, but a curious thing happened. The Braesan began to retreat. The Lochvaur soldiers stared in puzzlement as the Undead withdrew.
“What is this? A trap?” Kieran said aloud. The other Lochvaur look no less puzzled. Some began pursuing the fleeing Braesan; others stood as Kieran did, confused by the Undead’s actions. The Braesan had the advantage—what were they doing?
“Rhyn’athel! Rhyn’athel!” A Silren woman led a charge right into the Braesan lines, swinging her broadsword.
“They’re with us!” Kieran exclaimed. “To me! To me! Warriors of Rhyn’athel!”
The Lochvaur soldiers took up the cry. “Rhyn’athel! Rhyn’athel!” They charged the Braesan. Caught between two armies, the Braesan fell back. Then, as suddenly as the Braesan appeared, they disappeared.