As much as Lachlei hated to admit it, Rhyn intrigued her. He was remarkably open and vulnerable—and yet, beneath the apparent openness was extraordinary power. Rhyn had admitted he was a demon killer—something certainly not seen since the wars between the gods—and he carried a Sword of Power. That alone was a relic from those ancient times.
But there was more to Rhyn than his apparent power. Lachlei felt comfortable around him in the same way she had felt around Fialan. She didn’t know why or how the Chi’lan had made her feel at ease, but she felt she could trust him with her life. Perhaps it was the blood. First-bloods instinctively knew each other; they shared a link with the warrior god himself.
Rhyn rode up beside her. He was covered with blood and dirt; his cloak was gone, and his armor had some rents. Although he looked unscathed, those silver eyes were no longer steady and didn’t hold her gaze long.
Rhyn is weary, she realized. “Are you all right?” she asked tentatively.
Rhyn nodded. “We lost Trayhan and Haelle,” he said, taking a gulp of water from a canteen and then splashing the water on his face. “But we surprised them.” He paused. “How long can the archers hold the line?”
“We’re almost out of arrows,” she said grimly. “How many do you think we’ve slain?”
“Maybe three thousand,” Rhyn said. “The arrows have been keeping the Silren from advancing on us, but we’ve been unable to kill many more after the first assault.”
Lachlei shook her head. “That still leaves the majority of their army.” She paused. “Is there any way for us to lure them back in?”
“I’m surprised we killed this many with the demon there.”
“Did you see the demon?”
Rhyn nodded. “Yes, but he was too far back in the lines for anyone to reach him.”
“What did it look like?”
“Silren,” Rhyn replied. “He’s tall and wears black armor, unlike the other Silren, so there’s no mistaking him. He rides a black charger I think is from Areyn’s realm.”
“How do you kill it?” she asked.
Rhyn shook his head. “You don’t. There’s a trick to fighting him.”
“I’ll kill it,” she said, biting her lower lip. The pain of losing Fialan returned as she recalled gazing on his corpse. “Fyren took a bite out of it—that means the demon can be killed.”
Rhyn looked at her curiously. “And Fialan paid for that lucky hit with his life.”
Lachlei stared at him. “What?” she said as she felt herself flush in anger.
Rhyn ran his hand across his face. “I didn’t mean it quite that way,” he said. “Forgive me—I’m tired.”
“It’s all right,” Lachlei found herself saying to her surprise. “You caught me off guard—that’s all.”
“No,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said it. Fialan was a great warrior…” His voice trailed off, unwilling to say anything more.
“But he wasn’t a demon killer,” she said, finishing Rhyn’s thought. She paused and considered him carefully. “It must take quite a bit of power to maintain this fog.”
Rhyn looked uncomfortable but said nothing.
“Cahal told me of the illusions,” she ventured. “Fialan could do illusions, but not like this.”
Rhyn shrugged. “The demon no doubt is aware of these little tricks—the Silren won’t be fooled so easily now.”
“Can you still maintain the fog?”
Rhyn nodded. “I should be able to. But that won’t help our current situation much. What should we do? We can’t wait until we run out of arrows.”
Lachlei shook her head. “I don’t know. We’re still outnumbered by over three to one.”
29
Areyn closed his eyes, summoning the power deep within him. Areyn now called upon the hatred and desire to destroy this world. He had kept that power in check while mortal, but now, he relied on it. The rage within him fed the power. He felt the magic fill him; its power raced along his skin. Slayer began to slaver again, feeling the need to feast. Areyn Sehduk too felt the need for death. The Silren deaths were good, but he desired the blood of Lochvaur.
The fog had been troublesome. Areyn had tried to cause it to dissipate more than once, but without much success. He could cause it to dissipate in one place, only to have more roll in when he focused on another section. The enchantment was stronger than anything he had yet encountered in this world. Perhaps it was the price of assuming a mortal’s body. Akwel hadn’t been a particularly powerful first-blood Silren, but had been powerful enough. The mesh between the mortal’s body and Areyn’s mind hadn’t been perfect.
Reining his mount around, Areyn’s eyes flashed. “Charge! Damn you! Charge!”
The Silren nearby cowered. Galen shook his head. “Charge? Are you mad? The Lochvaur longbows will cut us down before we even reach them.”
“Are you a coward?” Areyn snarled.
Galen hesitated, meeting the death god’s gaze. “I am no coward, Akwel, but I know when we are outmatched. North Marches was one thing; fighting the entire Chi’lan army…”
He never finished his sentence. With a sudden shudder, Galen collapsed dead. His horse spooked and took off. Areyn turned to the others. “We fight or we die.”
Lachlei drew her sword and urged her horse forward. She stared into the mist, trying to discern the power she felt all around. It was dark and sinister—she could feel it as she could feel it on the blade, Fyren. And yet, the power was different. More diffused and less tangible.
Was the demon leaving or was something else happening?
She turned to Rhyn queriously. “What am I sensing?” she asked.
Rhyn made no reply, his eyes glazed over as though in a trance.
“Rhyn?” she said.
Rhyn’s eyes snapped back into focus. “They’re charging,” he said.
“Charging?” Lachlei repeated. “Then, the demon knows we’re almost out of arrows.”
Rhyn nodded.
Lachlei turned to Cahal and Kellachan, who had ridden towards her for orders. “I want both of you to take fifteen hundred of our warriors, retreat uphill and wait for the rest of us.”
“The rest of you?” Kellachan asked.
“Rhyn and I will lead five hundred Chi’lan into the fray and then fall back to our next position. If we can spread out the Silren troops, maybe we have a better chance of killing them.” She paused and scanned the lights within the mist. “If the fog holds up, it will be our advantage.”
“But the fog is not likely to cover the higher ground,” Cahal objected.
“I think it will,” Lachlei replied. She glanced at Rhyn knowingly. Rhyn nodded in acknowledgment. How long will Rhyn be able to keep the fog going? she wondered. Certainly, the demon is trying to counteract his magic.
A cry echoed through the hills—a scream both otherworldly and terrifying. Black fire shot through the Chi’lan ranks, causing even the warhorses to panic.
Lachlei reined her mount. “Go! Go! Go!” she shouted to Cahal and Kellachan. “We’ll hold the lines so you can regroup!”
The two Chi’lan commanders turned their steeds and began shouting orders. Rhyn was already gathering the front lines, and Lachlei spurred her horse towards him. The Silren exploded through the fog, and a line of dark flame rolled over the Chi’lan. Lachlei instinctively threw up her hands, feeling the hot flames lick around her. Yet, as soon as she thought they would be burned alive, the fire dissipated. She glanced at Rhyn, whose attention was fixed ahead.