Lachlei scowled. “Cahal sent you.” “And if he did, would you send me away?”
She smiled coyly. “Perhaps I should.”
“I don’t think Cahal would like that.”
Now, Lachlei scowled. “Go back to Cahal and tell him that I don’t need protection.” She turned and walked away. Rhyn followed, much to her irritation. She turned and glowered at him, seeing a slight smile on his lips. “Are you going to ignore a direct order?”
“Yes,” he said.
“I should…” She fell silent, trying to think of something.
Rhyn’s smile grew wider. “You’ll what? Fight me?”
Lachlei laughed. “Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Fight you.”
“You’d lose.”
Lachlei sobered and eyed him. “I would, would I?”
She considered him for the first time as a potential opponent. He was tall and muscular, but not so tall that his height would be a handicap in a fight. She had seen no apparent weakness in his stride or either side. Cahal told her that he handled a sword in both hands with ease. At another time, before Fialan, Lachlei would have found him desirable. “How did you best Tamar?”
Rhyn shrugged. “Tamar was drunk and sloppy—I was not.”
She paused as her gaze fell on the Sword of Power that hung at his side. “I never properly thanked you for your help through this,” she said, drawing closer to him. “You have been invaluable to me, Rhyn. If there is anything…”
A flicker of emotion glinted in the Chi’lan’s eyes, but it flitted so quickly that she was unable to read it. He smiled. “It is my privilege to serve Rhyn’athel’s champion,” he said.
Lachlei could feel her pulse quicken as they stood facing each other. She glanced down at the Sword of Power. The rune of Teiwas—the rune of Rhyn’athel—carved into the hilt, caught her attention. “So, tell me how you came by a Sword of Power.”
Rhyn stiffened slightly as if snapped from reverie. “My father gave it to me.”
Lachlei smiled at his discomfort. She drew closer so that they were barely inches apart. “Is that so? Swords of Power disintegrate when the forger dies.”
“Not all,” Rhyn assured her. “Although their preservation requires special circumstances…”
“Such as?” Their gazes locked.
Rhyn leaned forward; his lips drew closer to hers. “Such as changes in the Web of Wyrd as those by Athel’cen…”
“Lachlei?” Lachlei broke from him and turned to Kellachan. “What is it, Kel?”
Kellachan glanced at Rhyn and then looked at her. “Was I interrupting?”
Lachlei glanced at Rhyn who met her gaze steadily. “No,” she said. “I was going to speak to the Council.”
“Good,” Kellachan said. “Laewynd is here. He’s expecting you.” Kellachan led her up the stairs to the Council’s hall.
Laewynd will not listen to your demands, Rhyn said to her in mindspeak. Take the army, Lachlei, no one will dispute you’re Rhyn’athel’s champion.
Lachlei made no acknowledgment. Instead, she walked in, flanked by both Chi’lan.
The Council room was dark, despite it being daylight. The tallow candles within cast a smoky light on the Council members; the air was acrid and stale as Lachlei took a breath. Dark and musty, she wanted to throw open the doors and the windows and expose the room to the bright sunshine outside. She glanced from face-to-face: Moira, Kieran, Elrys, Tarchon, Talar. All stood as they met her gaze. Only Laewynd sat in his Council seat.
“You will rise,” Lachlei said evenly. She did not have to glance behind her to know that Rhyn and Kellachan had their hands on their hilts. “And give me the respect due.”
Laewynd stood, his face pale as he met her gaze. “Respect is earned, Lachlei.”
“Still at odds with me, Laewynd?” She smiled at Kieran. “Thought I would play the Council’s fool?” Kieran smiled back.
“No,” said Laewynd, “but I would’ve expected more sense from you.”
“I need the army, and I need it now,” Lachlei said. “The Silren will cross the Lochvaren Mountains and will march on Caer Lochvaren if we do not stop them. I demand the Lochvaur army.”
“Such as it is?” Moira said.
Lachlei turned to the Council member. “What do you mean?”
“It will take a month to bring all forty thousand to Caer Lochvaren,” she said.
“Even ten thousand…” Lachlei began.
“We can’t spare,” Tarchon said. “Haven’t you heard? The Redel kindred to the west are showing signs of restlessness. We can’t risk leaving Caer Lochvaren exposed.”
Lachlei glanced at Kellachan and Rhyn, who stood beside her. What has happened, Kel?
The Council has already taken a vote, her cousin replied. Despite your popularity, only Kieran and I voted in your favor.
“You see, Lachlei, you can’t force your agenda on the Council,” Laewynd smiled smugly. “Even if we would give you the army, we couldn’t.”
Lachlei glanced at Rhyn. Your recommendations?
Gather who you can, Rhyn replied. Go around the Council.
“Very well,” Lachlei said. She met Laewynd’s gaze. “I know where your loyalties lie. I will take my own Chi’lan to meet the Silren.” She turned and left, followed by Rhyn and Kellachan. “Damn them!” she snarled after the doors shut.
“You could take the army, yourself,” Rhyn said. “You have that right.”
Kellachan shook his head. “If she does, she’ll alienate the nobles. For whatever we think of the Council, the people chose them to lead.”
“No one, save the Council members, chose Laewynd as Council leader,” Lachlei said.
“Kieran and I don’t make a majority, even without Laewynd,” her cousin said. “As much as you are Rhyn’athel’s champion, and as much as you’re popular among the people, you won’t be able to take the army.”
Lachlei turned to Rhyn. “What do you think?”
“I think that you’re Rhyn’athel’s champion,” he said. “One Chi’lan is worth ten soldiers.”
Lachlei met his gaze and smiled. His faith in her strengthened her resolve. She nodded. “Find Cahal and prepare the Chi’lan. We leave tomorrow for North Marches.”
24
The autumn air of the Lochvaren Mountains held a bite, Lachlei decided. She sat on her warhorse, looking back at the Chi’lan warriors who rode behind her. She pulled her cloak more closely around her. Two thousand of her personal guard followed her to fight against the demon who sought to destroy her people. Two thousand Chi’lan out of forty-five thousand total warriors. She wished the Council had granted her part of the army.
It had been a fortnight since they left Caer Lochvaren and headed northward along the King’s Highway. Snow was already falling in the higher passes, and the trees were flocked with the last night’s snow. Lachlei stared ahead. More forest lay before them with a steep climb as they headed towards one of the smaller passes. It was rocky, and the snow blanketed the ground. She patted her warhorse’s neck as steam issued from its nostrils. She glanced behind again. Despite the cold, the army was in good spirits and the warriors were well equipped.
“I think we should make camp once we cross the pass,” Rhyn said. “We’ll have to camp in the lower forest—it’ll provide some protection against the wind at night.” Rhyn rode beside her and Cahal. It seemed natural for the North Marches Chi’lan to ride next to her. He proved to be invaluable as they rode northward, demonstrating his knowledge of the land and obstacles ahead.
Lachlei gazed at the road as it wound its way through the trees. She could just see the pass beyond a small break ahead. “What about avalanches?”