But that was not why she missed Rhyn so, Lachlei now admitted to herself. She missed him. Ni’yah had showed her she had fallen in love, despite herself.
Lachlei wished she had not banished him. Rhyn had loved her deeply—perhaps more deeply than even Fialan had loved her.
Snarling pulled her from her reverie. Lachlei’s horse screamed as a Yeth Hound leapt on her. She rolled with the massive demon on top of her, and her injured arm flailed upward to protect her throat. The Yeth sank its dagger teeth into her arm and shook, breaking bone and sinew. Lachlei screamed in pain and fought to grasp her sword or dagger hilt—anything to fight the demon hound. She brought her legs up and kicked, but the Yeth was relentless.
Suddenly, it was gone. Lachlei lay for a moment, her breath ragged and painful with every shallow gulp of air. Her arm was in shreds, and the familiar coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. Her vision blurred, and she saw a glowing warrior astride a stallion, wielding a Sword of Power. The Yeth Hounds slunk away from the warrior, and he rode towards her. She closed her eyes, too weak and overcome with pain to speak. When she opened them again, she looked into a familiar face.
“Rhyn?” she whispered, but her voice came out as a croak.
“Shhhh,” Rhyn whispered to her. “You’re badly wounded.” He touched her, and she saw the glow around him once more.
“Am I dreaming?” she murmured. She began to feel warm, and the pain disappeared.
“Shhhh,” he repeated. He touched her ribs where they had broken and punctured a lung. His fingers touched her shredded arm, and it became whole again. The damage was extensive—had he not arrived, Lachlei would have died.
Lachlei opened her eyes. “You’ve come back to me,” she said confused. “Or am I dead, and you too? Will we have to join Areyn’s legions?”
Rhyn smiled. “No, we’re not dead,” he said. “And I doubt Areyn could have me in his legions.”
Lachlei slid her arms around his neck, pausing for a moment to see that her arm was whole. “Rhyn,” she whispered. “How…?”
“Shhhh, you’re still healing.”
“No, listen to me,” she said. Rhyn fell silent and met her gaze. “Gods, I don’t know what I was thinking, but I was wrong. I was wrong, Rhyn.” She pulled his face towards hers. “I love you.” She pulled him to her and kissed him.
It was as though all the penned-up emotions inside her were released. Energy crackled between them, white hot, as she felt his eager response. He took her in his arms and held her, his silver eyes filled with desire and longing for her.
“Areyn’s army,” she said. Rhyn shook his head. “Don’t worry, beloved, there will be time enough for battle. Areyn won’t reach us yet.”
Lachlei stared into his eyes. “The greatest warrior,” she whispered. “And I was too blind to see.”
Rhyn’s lips caressed her throat. “You were preoccupied, beloved.” He slid her helm off and slid the mail coif to her shoulders. He began to untie her tresses and ran his fingers through her red-gold hair.
Lachlei returned his embrace as she slid from her armor. “You should have told me, Rhyn’athel. You should have told me.”
77
Ni’yah loped into the Lochvaur camp in wolf form. The sentries backed away as the huge silver wolf, glazed in light, came bounding in. He transmuted into his Eleion form, a Laddel warrior with radiant armor and a Sword of Power that glowed white-hot. Many of the sentries had nocked arrows, but lowered their bows.
“I am Ni’yah,” the wolf-god said. “If you want to live, you’d best bring me to Laddel and Cahal.”
Laddel strode forward through the crowd that was gathering, followed by Cahal, Tamar, and Cara. The Laddel King stared at his father for a moment. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Do you know what this means?”
“Fine way to greet your sire,” Ni’yah snapped. “How many wounded do you have?”
“Do you know this creature?” Chi’lan Kian asked, turning to Laddel.
Laddel glanced behind at the Lochvaur apprehensively.
“Tell them who I am,” Ni’yah said.
“Then, the war’s begun,” Laddel whispered.
“It never ended—tell them!”
Laddel turned to the Lochvaur. “This is Ni’yah, brother of Rhyn’athel.”
“Telek is the wolf-god?” Cahal asked. “Then, I was…”
“Your guess, young Lochvaur, was right,” Ni’yah said.
“What does this mean?” Cahal looked around. “Where’s Lachlei—she should know.”
“Lachlei already knows—she’s with Rhyn’athel,” Ni’yah said. “I need your wounded now, and I need you to stop your orders to advance. We wait on Rhyn’athel’s orders.”
A murmur ran through the Lochvaur. “Rhyn’athel? Rhyn’athel is here?” exclaimed Cara. She stared at Ni’yah. “The warrior god is here?”
“Indeed. The Chi’lan know him as ‘Rhyn,’” the wolf-god replied.
Another murmur ran through the Lochvaur. Cahal grinned broadly. “Rhyn? Rhyn has returned?” He stared at the wolf-god. “And he is truly Rhyn’athel as we thought?”
“Rhyn’athel!” laughed Tamar, clapping Cahal on the back. “By the gods! I knew there was more to Rhyn than meets the eye. And here I thought a mere mortal had bested me!” The Chi’lan warriors surrounding them chuckled in appreciation.
“I guess your reputation is still intact,” Cara remarked.
“But what of the death god’s army?” Laddel asked.
“I’ve taken care of that—we have several hours ahead of us to rest and prepare,” Ni’yah replied. “If you’re up to fighting for the warrior god,” he added wryly.
Cahal laughed. He turned to his men. “Rhyn’athel! Rhyn’athel!” he led the cheer.
Lachlei awoke beside the warrior god, still wrapped in his embrace. She slowly turned in his arms and gazed up at the stars. It was still dark, and the stars were still in the same position as they had been when they made love. They lay under his cloak, warm against the chilly air. Lachlei relaxed against him, enjoying the heat and feel of the warrior god’s body, pressed against hers.
“What is wrong, beloved?” Rhyn’athel asked. “The stars…” she began.
“Time has stopped,” he said simply.
“How?” she began and then laughed. “Of course. What about our army?”
“They are resting,” Rhyn’athel said. “They will need it for the battle.” He kissed her. “Beloved, something troubles you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me who you really were?”
Rhyn’athel sighed. “I would have, if I thought I could. I had hoped to keep my identity secret long enough to keep the Truce intact. It was foolish notion. It’s complex, beloved, but even I can’t see the entire future. Every time a god interferes, it causes the Wyrd to change. I knew Areyn was here and hoped to stop him before it came to this…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry for the deception, beloved, but it was necessary to keep Areyn from knowing that I was involved.”
Lachlei gazed at his face. “Some first-blood I am—I didn’t even recognize a god within my own Chi’lan.”
Rhyn’athel smiled wryly. “It was difficult to keep my identity concealed from you, anyway. But I didn’t lie to you when I told you I was a demon slayer.”
She kissed him. “No, you didn’t.”
“And you would’ve felt differently about me if you had known I was a god.”
Lachlei met his gaze. “Do you believe that?”
“Deities inspire awe and fear, but seldom love,” he said. “Perhaps you might not have, but I couldn’t risk it. Being a god can be lonely, Lachlei. When I saw you for the first time, I knew I had to have you. But to appear to you as a god…”