“Is over,” Lochvaur replied. “Your death, Fialan, as unfortunate as it is, has brought us freedom.”
“What freedom?” Kiril said. “We are still here in Tarentor, Lochvaur. We are still under Areyn’s control. We still hear the demon screams outside the fortress at night, and they still come for us.”
“Patience, Kiril,” Lochvaur growled.
“Patience! Patience?” Kiril shouted. “We have been patient, Lochvaur. When will you accept Rhyn’athel has abandoned us?”
Lochvaur’s eyes glinted menacingly and held Kiril’s gaze. “Do you believe that, Kiril?”
Kiril said nothing. “If so, then you are free to leave—to join the rest if you wish. Serve Areyn, if you choose. I will not stop you.”
“How can you be patient after so many years? After so many of us have lost hope?” Eshe spoke.
“Because I have seen more than you,” Lochvaur replied. “And I know what will be.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, my friends, Rhyn’athel already knows that Areyn has violated the Truce.” He handed the ghost blade back to Fialan.
This will be a trying time for you, Fialan heard Lochvaur’s voice in his head. As it will for us all, but especially for you. Remember, you are Chi’lan first and always.
31
Rhyn’athel rode, the glowing Sword of Power, Teiwaz, in his hands. Once the Silren charged, Rhyn’athel could only think of the battle and naught else. The mortal body had limits, and he quickly became fatigued. In his god form, he could fight all day without feeling pain or exhaustion. Now, he experienced both.
The first Silren he fought slipped a lucky blow past his guard, and the sword glanced off the warrior god’s adamantine armor on his left arm. Pain shot through Rhyn’athel’s arm as he felt the crushing blow and the snap of a bone. The god bellowed in rage and pain. The Sword of Power flashed as Rhyn’athel brought the blade down on the Silren warrior. The Silren parried, but the warrior’s sword could not withstand the god’s blade. Teiwaz shattered the sword and cleaved deep into the man’s chest. The light faded from the man’s ice-blue eyes, and Rhyn’athel withdrew the Sword of Power.
Rhyn’athel looked around and saw that the battle had moved farther down the hill. The Lochvaur Chi’lan, as few as they were, had stopped the first attack. A first-blood like Lachlei and Fialan could heal themselves as well as others, but it took time and a large amount of power. The warrior god didn’t have the time to keep appearances up. Rhyn’athel paused and let the bones knit and the break heal in his arm.
He looked around for Lachlei, but saw nothing. Bewildered, he scanned the battlefield and a glint caught his eye. He urged the stallion forward until he saw Fyren as it lay in the mud. Glancing around, he quickly dismounted and picked up the sword. Lachlei would not have left Fialan’s sword lying around. Rhyn’athel used the Sight and, to his horror, saw Lachlei behind the Silren lines attacking Areyn.
“Lachlei!” he gasped. He leapt on his horse and spurred it into the battle.
Areyn Sehduk rode forward amid the Silren as they began their advance. The Lochvaur were out of arrows and despite their brave charge, there was not enough of them to hold back the Silren tide. The Silren would destroy the Chi’lan and then march on to Caer Lochvaren.
Yet, even in his gloating, something nagged Areyn. Something had turned aside his magic. Something very powerful—more powerful than an ordinary first-blood. His magic should have incinerated the Chi’lan along the front lines. Instead, the fire had washed over them like a harmless breeze. Could it have been Ni’yah? He searched the area with his senses, but there was no sign of the wolf-god. Still, there was something familiar…
“Demon!” he heard shouting. Areyn Sehduk looked up to see a Lochvaur woman astride a horse, wielding a hand and a half. She spurred the horse towards him, swinging the sword overhead.
Areyn barely had time to parry as Lachlei brought the sword down. He was amazed at her fierceness and strength. Slayer leapt up and ripped into her horse, but the Chi’lan woman was too quick. She leapt off the horse and slashed the adamantine blade into the demon.
Slayer howled in pain and rage. The adamantine blade cut deep into the demon—not enough to fatally wound it, but enough to anger it. It slavered and snapped at Lachlei.
“Demon!” she roared at Areyn. “You killed Fialan!”
Areyn smiled. “So, you’re Fialan’s mate, Lachlei?” He searched his memory, but had none of her. Odd…
“I am Lachlei, daughter of Lochynvaur and Ladara. Chi’lan warrior and Queen of the Lochvaur,” she said, keeping her silver eyes fixed on the demon horse. She could see now that it was not a horse, but a demon with sharp teeth and claws. Black blood oozed from its wound. Before her eyes, the wound closed and the demon was unscathed.
Areyn chuckled. “Well, Queen Lachlei, we shall see how well you can fight demons.”
Suddenly, dark flames exploded around them. A wall of black fire formed a fifty-foot ring around them. Lachlei stared at the flames and then turned back to Areyn. “What is your game, demon?”
The death god laughed. “To watch you die, of course. If you can take care of my little pet, perhaps I’ll consider fighting you.”
Slayer hissed in anger and lunged at her. Lachlei leapt aside, barely escaping the demon’s massive teeth. She wielded the sword only to have it glance off on the creature’s scaly hide. Slayer snarled and lunged at her again. Lachlei parried, only to have the demon catch the sword in its teeth and rip it from her hands. Weaponless, save for a small killing dagger, Lachlei backed up. She pulled the small dagger from her belt and tried to focus on her power.
As the demon approached, Lachlei tried to conjure something—anything—to help her with her fight, but to no avail. Something seemed to prevent her from using her powers. She could hear Areyn’s laughter as she retreated from the demon steed.
This was how Fialan died, she thought as she held her dagger up in defense.
Rhyn’athel watched as a wall of flame shot into the sky. “Areyn,” he whispered as he saw the flames course overhead. What was the death god doing? Rhyn’athel dared not use his full powers, but he had to know…
Tamar paused beside Rhyn and stared. “What does it mean?”
Rhyn’athel touched something familiar. “Lachlei!” he said. “Lachlei is facing the demon.”
A thunderclap followed by a brilliant flash of light shook the ground. Rhyn appeared from the smoke and light, riding through the wall of flame and wielding his Sword of Power. He slammed the Sword into the demon horse, severing its neck.
Areyn stared aghast—the warrior had broken through all his defenses. He called up his powers and hurled flames at the Chi’lan warrior. Rhyn brushed them aside and rode towards Lachlei on his gray stallion.
“Are you all right?” he asked, reaching down to offer his hand.
She grinned. “What took you so long?” She grasped his hand and leapt behind him.
Rhyn’athel turned to Areyn. The death god drew his dark blade and strode towards him. Areyn focused his power to destroy the newcomer, only to have his power dissipate on an invisible shield. Areyn Sehduk gazed into those steady silver eyes and saw no fear, only hatred.
“Let’s finish this now,” Rhyn’athel said. His voice held an edge that Areyn recognized. For a moment, the death god felt fear.