“Fialan would’ve weighed the decision more carefully,” Laewynd replied. “You are new at this.”
Lachlei now understood. The platitudes they had spoken before had been to appease her. They had chosen her precisely because she hadn’t wanted the position, and yet, none would argue with it. The High Council had hoped to take advantage of her. They would’ve never dared with Fialan in power.
“Very well,” Lachlei said. She turned and left before any could reply.
Lachlei entered the bailey and looked around. Rhyn hadn’t been in the great hall when she had woken, nor had he been to the High Council.
Fools! she thought. They didn’t sense what she and Rhyn sensed. Perhaps if Rhyn would speak to the High Council, they would understand the urgency. She looked up and saw Rhyn looking down on her. She climbed the tower stairs that led to the wall walk. As she approached Rhyn, she saw that he was lost in thought.
“Rhyn!” she called.
The North Marches Chi’lan turned to her, a concerned look on his face. “You’ve been to the High Council.”
Lachlei nodded. “They won’t give me the troops to meet the Silren at North Marches.”
“What does that leave you with?”
“My own Chi’lan—two thousand total,” Lachlei said. “It’s not enough.”
Rhyn frowned. “No, it’s not,” he agreed. He knew that the Laddel were Ni’yah’s to command, but how many would remain to be seen. Laddel, Ni’yah’s son, would be obliged to his father, but even Laddel would have his limits. Without the full force of the Lochvaur, the Laddel would not be willing to give their entire army to stop Areyn. It would be too late by the time the Lochvaur entered the fight. “What if the Silren obtain the Elesil’s aid?”
Lachlei shook her head. “The Elesil are traditionally allied with the Silren. If they enter the fray, we’ll be overwhelmed without aid from our allies. But the Laddel are some distance away and the Haell allegiance is tenuous at best.”
Then, let us hope Ni’yah does his work, Rhyn’athel thought darkly. If I have to intervene, this could escalate…
Lachlei studied Rhyn’s face curiously. “What of the Lochvaur surrounding North Marches?”
Rhyn hesitated. “There are maybe a few thousand. Of those, a few hundred warriors.”
“That’s a few hundred we don’t have now.” She fell silent, her face pensive. “Something is wrong.” Lachlei shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“No, it’s something,” Rhyn paused. He brushed her thoughts and frowned. “Laewynd threatened your crown?”
“It’s nothing,” Lachlei said.
“No,” he replied, feeling his anger rise. “Laewynd threatened you with a challenger, didn’t he?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes.”
Rhyn frowned. His link with the Web of Wyrd was tenuous in his new form. Even so, he could see that it was changing because of his very presence. “I don’t know what’s exactly ahead,” he said. “But I can promise you none of your Chi’lan will challenge you. Nor will I.”
“That is some comfort, I suppose.” Lachlei’s smile was forced. “What will you do now that you have no home to return to?” “The land is burnt, the people dead, and there is nothing for me. I must seek the demon that killed them.”
“Then, our paths still cross,” she murmured. “I was hoping that perhaps you would consider joining my Chi’lan,” she said. “We need warriors, Rhyn.” She met his gaze. “I need warriors. You’re first-blood, and that’s a rare commodity nowadays.”
Rhyn stared for a long moment, amazed at his luck. “I would be honored,” he said.
“Then, stand beside me tonight at coronation,” she said. “If I fail, I would have you challenge the victor. I don’t know who Laewynd may put up to challenge me, but he will be nothing more than a puppet.”
Rhyn shook his head. “No, Lachlei, you won’t fail.”
“Laewynd reminded me that I haven’t seen battle in years—against a battle-hardened warrior, I may fall. You are the only Chi’lan I’ve seen who is worthy enough for the throne.”
“I can’t accept.”
She took his hands and once again, Rhyn felt the charge run through him. “Please, Rhyn, I know you’re a first-blood and I know you have a Sword of Power. Cahal told me how you’ve defeated Tamar.”
Rhyn looked into her eyes and felt his resolve slip away. How could a woman weaken the determination of the most powerful god in the Nine Worlds? “I accept, Lachlei,” he heard himself say. “But you will not fail.”
Imdyr rode her black horse towards the Silren encampment. It was late afternoon and the sun was already sinking behind the Lochvaren Mountains. Before her lay the tents and watch fires of the Silren army, nestled deep within the forest surrounding the King’s Highway.
Her horse’s hooves made no noise, and Imdyr traveled like a shadow in the oncoming darkness. Imdyr’s dark hair and black cloak flowed behind her. She was now dressed in dark adamantine mail and a short sword hung at her side.
The Silren guards did not see Imdyr as she rode by, cloaked in her own powers of invisibility. Even with Areyn’s shields, Imdyr could sense the death god nearby; his power seemed to draw her in. Imdyr dismounted and entered Areyn’s tent.
Incense greeted her as she entered the dark tent. Another odor that she couldn’t place—a sweet musky smell—seemed to permeate her senses. As her eyes became used to the dark, Imdyr saw that the tent was empty. Empty, and yet, not. Imdyr could feel Areyn’s power everywhere—it was as tangible as the incense that wafted through the tent. She took a step forward.
Suddenly, she felt a strong hand grasp her neck from behind and pull her backwards. Another hand clamped around her mouth so she could not scream. Imdyr turned to see ice-blue eyes glitter with a red light in the darkness.
Who are you?
Imdyr smiled inwardly, despite her fear. I have come for you, Areyn Sehduk.
A hesitation. I am Akwel.
Is that what the god of destruction calls himself?
Areyn released her, his eyes glowing menacingly. “What are you?” he growled.
“I am Imdyr, High Priestess of Fala,” she said.
“An Eltar,” Areyn said. He gazed at her, trying to read her mind and found it was shut to him. “A daughter of the winged goddess. Why do you seek a Silren? We consider you a little more than animals.”
“Which is why it surprises me that you took a Silren body,” Imdyr remarked, appraisingly. She approached him and put her arms around his neck. “It is said that Fala was once your lover…” Imdyr kissed him passionately.
Areyn pulled away. “Who sent you?” he demanded. It bothered him that he couldn’t read her mind. “How did you get past the guards?”
“All in due time,” she said, kissing him again. “If you please me, I might grant you what you most desire.”
“There is nothing that you would have that I would want.”
“Really?” Imdyr said, pulling away and feigning surprise. “Then, I suppose I could offer Rhyn’athel the same. Maybe a god of light would be more appreciative of my gifts…”
Areyn curbed his temper as his curiosity took hold. “What gifts?”
“The Nine Worlds, of course.”
Areyn licked his lips; hunger glittering in his eyes. “Perhaps I was being hasty,” he said. “I will listen.”