“Gods! What manner of devilry is this?” Mirin spoke. She was one of the Lochvaur soldiers standing beside Kieran.
“Perhaps none,” Kieran said as he watched the mist disappear and the Elesil ranks shrink in number. “This is first-blood doing, or I’m not a Chi’lan. I have heard of such illusions, but I have never seen them.” He stared at the woman who rode towards him. She was a warrior among warriors, even though her white hair and blue eyes distinguished her as Silren. A warrior bearing an Elesil surcoat rode beside her. His bearing suggested first-blood or at least nobility.
“Who is she?” Mirin whispered.
Kieran shook his head. “She’s Chi’lan.”
“She can’t be, she’s Silren,” the soldier replied.
Kieran shook his head. “Silren or not, she’s Chi’lan,” he said. “I’d bet my life on that—she bears the look of one who serves Rhyn’athel.”
“Who’s in charge?” the woman called as she rode forward. The Elesil rode beside her.
“I am,” Kieran said. She turned her ice-blue eyes on him, and he repressed a shudder. She was indeed Chi’lan. Only Lachlei held more power in her gaze.
“The Lochvaur owe you a debit of gratitude,” he said. “I am Kieran, Chi’lan warrior and member of the Lochvaur High Council.”
“I am Cara, daughter of Silvain.” Cara turned to the Elesil warrior. “This is Conlan, king of the Elesil. We were told you needed help.”
“That we did. If you hadn’t arrived, we would’ve been destroyed.”
Cara gazed over the soldiers. “Where’s your queen? Where are the Chi’lan?”
“I don’t know. We were led this way by a shapeshifter posing as Lachlei,” Kieran said. “She led us into this trap.”
Cara glanced at Conlan. Alarm glowed in the Elesil king’s eyes. “What about Caer Lochvaren?”
Kieran’s eyes widened as he realized the implications. “By Rhyn’athel’s sword!” “Gather what warriors you can—we have a hard ride ahead,” Cara said. “Hopefully, we’re not too late.”
Rhyn reined his horse and stared at the Braesan materializing before the army. The Laddel and Chi’lan army were caught between the Areyn’s army of living and his army of Braesan. The Chi’lan and Laddel were thrown into confusion. “How?” he roared. “Damn him! Damn Areyn and his demon spawn!”
“It’s a trap!” Lachlei shouted.
“Rhyn’athel! Rhyn’athel!” Cahal shouted. “Charge!” The Chi’lan commander broke from the other commanders with sword brandished, leading a charge directly at the Braesan. The Braesan attacked and forced them into a retreat.
Ni’yah reined his horse beside his brother, his brass eyes wide in shock. “How could we have not seen this?”
Rhyn’athel made no reply. For the first time, he felt completely helpless against Areyn. He focused his powers on the Braesan army, but this time he was met with a strong rebuff. He turned his powers on the Silren and Eltar, and still nothing.
“Brother!” shouted Ni’yah.
Rhyn’athel shook his head.
Lachlei rode up, Fyren drawn and already bloody. “Do something!”
“I’m trying!” Rhyn’athel turned to Ni’yah. “We must break his link to Tarentor, it’s the only way.”
Lachlei glanced at them. “While you argue, my army is getting slaughtered.” She brandished Fyren. “To me! To me!” she shouted, clapping her legs against the warhorse’s sides.
“What are you doing?” Rhyn demanded.
“I’m leading us out of here!” she shouted and took off.
“No! Lachlei! Wait!” Rhyn shouted, but she was already out of earshot. The Braesan were driving her army towards the gates of Caer Lochvaren where the Silren and Eltar waited. Rhyn knew that she would try to turn the army eastward to evade the trap. It was risky and required greater speed.
Ni’yah grasped Rhyn’athel’s arm. “Leave her! If we have a chance to stop them, it’s now. Both our powers combined.”
Rhyn’athel nodded and drew Teiwaz. Ni’yah drew his own sword, Dagaz and crossed it against the warrior god’s own blade. Flames leapt from the two Athel’cen swords and raced towards the Braesan.
“Lachlei!” Cahal shouted as Lachlei rode to the front lines. Cahal was still on his warhorse, but she could see both he and his horse were injured.
“Cahal!” Lachlei said. “Retreat! East!”
“East?” Cahal repeated. He paused. “Lachlei, look! By the gods of light—what is that?” She followed his line of sight to the hill she had left.
Lachlei stared as well. Two glowing warriors sat on their steeds with swords crossed, flames racing towards the Braesan as they advanced. But the flames halted before the Undead troops. They did not touch the enemy lines, but the enemy could not advance.
A scream came from above. Lachlei looked up to see demons appear overhead. One flew right for her. Sheer chaos followed. Her warhorse reared and threw her to the ground. She rolled and within moments, the demon was on top of her. Lachlei thrust Fyren upward as the arch-demon slashed down on her. A poisonous talon slashed through her armor and grazed her skin. She slid from the demon’s grasp and turned to face it.
“Behind you!” shouted Cahal, but it was too late.
A blow from behind hit her helm and she fell to her knees stunned. The poison began to burn in her veins. She fell unconscious and knew no more.
“Lachlei!” Rhyn’athel saw the demons swoop towards her. He broke contact with Ni’yah’s sword and spurred his horse forward.
“Rhyn’athel! What are you doing?” Ni’yah shouted.
Rhyn’athel turned back. For a moment, he looked as if he would answer. Instead, he rode through the enemy to reach Lachlei. He arrived to see the demon grasp her and disappear.
“NO!”
The rage the warrior god felt was indescribable. He unleashed his power, slamming it against Areyn’s shields, but to little avail. Rhyn’athel was weakening—he could feel it with each death—his power was slipping from him and slowly feeding Areyn Sehduk.
“What are you doing?” Ni’yah said, riding now beside him. “She’s gone.”
“No, she’s not!” Rhyn’athel said, his eyes glowing.
“Even if she isn’t, we’re being destroyed.”
“Lead the army away,” Rhyn’athel said. “I must find her.”
“Don’t be a fool! I can’t stand up to Areyn!” Ni’yah snapped.
“You’ll have to until I return.” Suddenly, he was gone, and the entire Eleion army stood twenty miles away on Darkling Plain. The Braesan, the demons, the Eltar, and the Silren were gone. Instead, the Chi’lan and the Laddel were now looking at the Elesil and Lochvaur army.
“By Rhyn’athel’s mane!” Cahal said, pulling his helm off and staring the two armies. He turned to Telek. “Rhyn did this, didn’t he?”
Telek smiled grimly. “Yes, he did. He’s gone after Lachlei. Gather what’s left of our army. Rhyn has given us some time, but not much.”
65
Lachlei awoke in chains. A sharp pain knifed through her shoulder as she moved, bringing her back to consciousness. She groaned. Her stomach was queasy, and she had a throbbing headache. Her last memory was fighting one of the demons when she was clubbed from behind. Now she lay in the mud, covered with blood and dirt. She was in an encampment with tents around her. Eleion warriors with dark manes and dark eyes strode past her, a few glancing down and smirking as they saw her pull against the chain.