Haegl met her gaze. And so is my promise.
Rhyn and Lachlei backed up, and the black dragon drew itself to its feet. With a roar, the dragon leapt into the air, his wings beating gracefully as he flew northwards.
Lachlei looked at Rhyn in puzzlement. “What was he talking about? Did he think you freed him from the Fyr?”
“Perhaps he did.” Rhyn did not meet her gaze. Instead, he watched the dragon as it flew out of sight.
“That’s impossible,” Lachlei said. “That would take the power of a god.”
“Indeed, it would take an Athel’cen,” Rhyn agreed.
“What did he mean that he would serve Rhyn’athel’s heirs?” Lachlei asked.
Rhyn shrugged. “What do you think it means?” He returned to his warhorse and mounted it.
“Perhaps he meant the Lochvaur—we are all Rhyn’athel’s heirs,” she said.
Rhyn said nothing. Instead, he rode forward. “Let’s get going—we have many miles to cross.”
She stared at him as if looking at him for the first time. “What is wrong with you?” She mounted her horse and spurred it after him. “You’ve been aloof ever since you’ve rescued me. What is wrong?”
“Are you so blinded by anger that you can’t see what I truly am?” Rhyn replied.
“What?” Lachlei said. “You’re a Chi’lan, certainly, and a powerful first-blood.”
“Is that all?” “I thought perhaps you might be a Guardian.”
“A Guardian,” growled Rhyn. “Weak spirits incapable of anything save perhaps the most rudimentary magic.” He reined his horse and looked at her. “What I did was free the Fyr-dragons from the Fyr.”
Lachlei stared at him. “That’s impossible.”
“Not for me,” Rhyn said. “Damn it, Lachlei! The Chi’lan warriors have figured out who I am, but my own champion is blind!”
“What are you saying? That you’re a god?”
“Who else could kill arch-demons as easily as heath-stalkers? Who else could thwart Areyn’s attempts at trying to capture you or destroy our army? Who else would directly challenge Areyn Sehduk?”
Lachlei laughed. “Really, Rhyn? If you were a god, don’t you think we’d be winning this war?”
Anger flashed in his face. “Areyn is a powerful god—almost as powerful as I am. Lachlei, I became mortal because I love you. I’ve wanted you since you spoke to me the night when Fialan’s pyre lit the sky over Caer Lochvaren…”
“How do you know about that?” Lachlei demanded, staring at him. “You were there?”
“Of course I was there,” Rhyn said. “Areyn murdered Fialan—I couldn’t let that grievance slide—and then I saw you.” He paused. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I haven’t wanted you…”
She gaped at his admission. “Leave!” She drew Fyren.
Rhyn looked down at the blade and smiled grimly. “Do you think that blade would stop me if I decided to take you? With as many opportunities as I’ve had…”
Fear gripped Lachlei. Rhyn—or whatever it was—had opportunities, as recent as the night before. The nights when they had lain together under the stars flashed in her memory. She recalled, ruefully, that she had been attracted to him, despite herself. Perhaps he was a demon—maybe a life-leech or another evil creature. Whatever he was, Rhyn was no god—that she was certain. “Leave me alone, whatever you are. I never want to see you again.”
Rhyn’athel shook his head. “Lachlei, I love you. I loved you since I first saw you, when you swore vengeance against Fialan’s killer. That is what brought me to your side, and now you would take on your most dangerous enemy without me. Lachlei—think this through—this is no ordinary demon you’re fighting. You will be fighting Areyn Sehduk.”
“I know, but I can’t love you.”
“That’s not true,” Rhyn snapped. “I know what you feel inside, but you keep it so buried that you’ve fooled yourself into believing you can never love another.”
“I love Fialan.” “Fialan is dead! Worse than dead—he’s Braesan, which makes him part of Areyn’s troops. Lachlei, don’t look for comfort from the dead—they do not give it.”
Lachlei’s eyes flashed in anger. “Leave now!”
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” Rhyn said evenly. “I can’t protect you if you send me away now. There are demons trailing us, and only my power keeps them at bay. We’ll argue about this later when we return to the army, but I won’t leave you now.”
“I don’t need your protection, Rhyn,” she replied. “I don’t need you. Leave me alone!”
Rhyn bowed his head. “Lachlei, you don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I do, and you must leave now.”
He met her gaze. “By my own blood, Lachlei, you have your wish. I won’t return. But do not call on me in your darkest hour, for I will not hear your cries.”
Rhyn’athel drew his sword, took it between his hands and raised it above his head. Ille vauri swaerya. Ille athelren!
The sword glowed and in a flash of light, Rhyn’athel vanished.
69
Lachlei stared in shock at the place where Rhyn and his charger had been. No ordinary Eleion could have disappeared like that. Not even a godling had the power to leave as Rhyn had done. Lachlei could only think of one creature who could have done it.
Do not call on me in your darkest hour, for I will not hear your cries.
Rhyn’s warning chilled her. She stared at the place where he had been, her mind numb and her heart heavy. He had spoken in the god’s tongue, swearing by his own blood he wouldn’t return. His second command had been to Athelren.
Athelren—the home of the gods.
The Chi’lan warriors have figured out who I am, but my own champion is blind…
My own champion… She took a breath and then another. Could he have been…? She couldn’t finish the thought. She began to weep. What had she done to her kindred? What had she done to herself?
Why hadn’t Rhyn told her who he really was?
A demon cry brought her around. She stared into the sky to see a dark winged creature in the distance. Lachlei spurred her horse to a canter and glanced at the creature. Did it see her? Could it sense her presence?
Without Rhyn, Lachlei didn’t know. She scanned the road ahead. The meadow changed to thick pines, but she knew as long as she remained on the road, she would be a target. Going cross-country might save her.
Lachlei turned her warhorse and urged it over the berme, hoping the snow wasn’t deep. The horse stepped and sunk in just above the pastern, so she clapped her legs against its side to step up the pace. The warhorse stepped through the snow carefully, trying not to slip or injure itself.
A scream echoed through the forest, louder now, and Lachlei hoped the demon had no supernatural senses to search for her. She doubted she would be so lucky and closed her eyes to concentrate on shielding herself.
Do not call on me in your darkest hour, for I will not hear your cries.
Lachlei chewed her lower lip. She would normally ask Rhyn for his guidance, and now she had none. I won’t call on you, she silently promised him. The dragon Haegl said he would come to her aid in her time of need, but how could she call him? She tried using mindspeak, but saw and felt nothing. Perhaps the dragon meant that it would aid Rhyn only or perhaps only Rhyn knew how to call it.
Lachlei considered turning into a wolf, but then, she would not have her warhorse or her provisions. She could hunt as a wolf, but she wondered how successful she would be at it. Attacking an Eltar in close quarters was one thing; hunting for scarce food was another. She decided she was better off as an Eleion unless she had to give up her horse.