Perhaps she could talk to Imdyr—gain her confidence? She looked back at the guards who still leered at her. If she had more time—but time was something Lachlei did not have. Not if she was to be brought before the demon lord in chains or if the guards decided to move on her. She could handle one guard while chained, but not if they both moved against her.
Laddel had mentioned that her mother had been a shapeshifter, having inherited the power from Ni’yah, the wolf-god. Lachlei wondered if perhaps she had inherited the wolf-god’s powers as well.
Twice first-blood, Telek had said when she overheard a bit of Rhyn and his conversation. Perhaps that combination made her more powerful than she originally thought. But what should she focus on becoming? Something small, perhaps. A rodent? She closed her eyes to concentrate, focusing her powers on becoming a mouse.
Suddenly, she was thrown to the ground. Lachlei threw up her hands only to have them jerked above her. She tried to kick, but Tarel already had her pinned to the ground. He clapped a hand over her mouth as he pressed a knife against her throat.
“Scream and you die,” Tarel growled. He removed his hand from her mouth and slid his hand under the arming shirt and hauberk to loosen the padded breeches. He grinned at his companion. “We’ll take turns.”
Not fear, but anger exploded inside Lachlei mind. Her guts twisted, and suddenly she found herself free of the chains. She tried to yell, but her voice was the scream of an animal. Looking down at her feet, she saw large paws instead of hands. She looked up at the guard, who was just as surprised as she was seeing a red wolf standing in place of a woman.
Ni’yah, Lachlei thought. The Laddel are descended from him. It made sense that the easiest form to take would be that of a wolf. She wondered how she managed the transformation. Perhaps it was her anger or desperation.
“What is that, a witch?” Tarel’s companion gasped, pulling her out of her reverie.
“I’ll show it how we deal with Rhyn’athel’s witches,” Tarel said. He brandished the knife and leapt at her.
Lachlei leapt on the Eltar. Tarel screamed as she lunged at his throat, her teeth closing around the soft skin and pulling back. A sharp pain ripped through her side as the man flailed.
Then, Lachlei was suddenly Eleion again. She pulled Tarel’s dagger from her side and stared at the man as he lay dying, his throat ripped out. The other Eltar guard screamed and fled in horror.
Lachlei bent over and retched. The smell of blood was overwhelming and it sickened her what she had to do.
Lachlei turned and saw that Tarel carried Fyren. She took the swordbelt from around the dead man’s waist and buckled it around her own. She hesitated. Would it even change with her? She paused, trying to decide what to do.
“Where is she?” Lachlei heard Imdyr’s voice from the camp. Lachlei turned and fled into the thick forest, but she knew they would track her. Each gasp of breath was white-hot as she ran; her side ached with the knife wound. When, at last, she didn’t think she had the strength to continue, she stopped at a tree to catch her breath.
She drew Fyren and stared at it a long while. Would it change with her if she tried again? Her clothes had changed when she turned into a wolf. Maybe her sword would too.
She sheathed Fyren and closed her eyes. She now concentrated on becoming a wolf. At first, nothing happened. But then, she felt her guts twist and when she looked down, she had changed back into a wolf. Fyren had changed with her. She sighed in relief and padded deeper into the forest.
Lachlei moved quickly through the forest, hoping to evade her captors. In wolf form, she was faster than she could move as an Eleion. In retrospect, she should have realized the easiest form to take would be a wolf—legend had it that Ni’yah, after all, was a wolf when he assumed a different form. And yet, she was not a true lycanthrope. Her clothing had remained intact when she changed back and took Fyren from the Eltar guard. Fyren had changed with her when she transmuted.
It had been an hour since she escaped the chains. Her wolf guise proved handy when the Eltar search parties combed the forest. The other guard may or may not have reported that she had changed into a wolf—and if he did, would Imdyr believe him?
Lachlei stopped now. The smell of blood was overpowering, and she was feeling weak. She turned and looked at the long gash along her ribcage. She was bleeding again, and she tentatively licked the wound. The point of the dagger had entered just below the last rib. With so much adrenaline pumping through her body and her fear of the Eltar recapturing her, she had not had time to assess the damage.
She had lost a lot of blood. Furthermore, the dagger had penetrated her liver and part of her spleen. Lachlei realized she should have been dead, but for her first-blood constitution. She would die if she could not transform back into an Eleion and use her healing powers.
She lay down and tried to concentrate, but she was too weak. She heard a demon scream overhead and closed her eyes. By the time the demon found her, she would be dead. Areyn would have a victory. Perhaps he would make her a Braesan like he had Fialan and force her to fight against her own people. But, she would be with Fialan at last…
Another demon screamed. This time, much closer.
The thought of joining Fialan did not comfort her. Instead, she opened her eyes and saw a demon land nearby. It clacked its jaws together and approached her. She closed her eyes again, not wanting to see the end.
Rhyn’athel, help me, she thought.
Suddenly, there were sounds of steel clashing against claws. The demon screamed, and Lachlei opened her eyes to see the glowing warrior attack the creature. The Sword of Power plunged deep into the beast and it shrieked loudly. The warrior turned to her.
Lachlei? a familiar voice came into her mind.
Rhyn? she thought, but she had no strength left to mindspeak.
“Shhhh, beloved,” Rhyn said absently. “You’re badly hurt.”
She felt his hands move along her ribcage and she whined softly. How did he know it was her in this wolf body? She felt his warm hands heal the organs and close the wound. As she began to gain strength, she opened her eyes and lifted her head. To her amazement, she was in Eleion form again. “You came for me,” she whispered.
Rhyn smiled. “Of course I did,” he said. “Save your energy and let yourself heal. We have some hard riding ahead of us, and Areyn’s demons are looking for you.”
Lachlei stared at the smoldering body of the demon nearby. “Imdyr,” she said. “There was a girl named Imdyr who claims to be Areyn’s consort. She had me captured.”
Rhyn looked puzzled. “Imdyr?” he said. “I don’t recognize the name. A girl, you say?”
“Yes—just sixteen or seventeen,” Lachlei said. She slowly sat up. “Do you have any water? Those beasts didn’t give me any.”
Rhyn handed her his canteen and she drank greedily. “Odd, I don’t know of any Imdyr.” He seemed lost in thought.
Lachlei gave him a long appraising look. “Why should you? She’s Eltar.”
Rhyn smiled. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “I shouldn’t.”
“How did you find me? We need to get out of here...”
“Easy,” he said, pushing her back down. “Rest a bit. The demons won’t attack while I’m with you. I found you through the Wyrd, but it wasn’t easy. Areyn tried to keep you from me.”