But the wars between the gods happened over two thousand years before. Would a demon be lurking within the Shadow Mountains all these many years without the Lochvaur knowing of it? Somehow, she thought it unlikely.
“Lachlei!”
Lachlei turned to see Cahal and Kellachan striding towards her.
Cahal’s face shown with worry. “We’ve been looking for you,” he said.
She smiled. “I’m sorry, Cahal, but I needed some time alone,” she said.
He nodded. “I understand—but you shouldn’t be without your guard.”
She sighed. “Cahal, I don’t need a guard any longer. I am not in power…”
The two men exchanged glances. “You will be,” said Kellachan quietly. “The Council has voted unanimously that you remain queen until they decide on challengers.”
Lachlei stared. “How? Who nominated me? Didn’t you tell them…” Her voice trailed off. “Gods! Kellachan!” she swore, her eyes glowing with anger. “You didn’t tell them!”
“No, I didn’t,” Kellachan said quietly. “But I didn’t nominate you. Laewynd did. No one else contested, and no one else was nominated.”
“I wasn’t consulted!”
“Lachlei,” Kellachan said. “Who else is there?”
“There’s you,” Lachlei said, but the words sounded false, even to her ears. “You’re first-blood…”
“I have no power,” Kellachan replied. “You know this—you and your son are the last of Lochvaur’s true heirs.” He paused. “Before you married Fialan, you were the greatest Chi’lan warrior we’d seen in many centuries…”
“Fialan was,” she stated.
“You were equals,” Kellachan said. “You simply deferred to Fialan because you loved him…”
Lachlei stared at her cousin, shocked at his words. “How dare you!” she snarled when she found her voice. “Fialan is barely dead and you mock his memory!” She turned and stormed off.
“Lachlei!” Kellachan began, but Cahal gripped the Chi’lan’s shoulder.
“Wait. Let me talk to her,” Cahal said.
Kellachan nodded. “Make sure she’s ok—we don’t need anything to happen to her.”
Cahal nodded and followed her. “Lachlei!” “Leave me alone, Cahal,” she said, turning around.
“Wait—hear me out,” Cahal said. “Lachlei—the Chi’lan are leaderless. Without a strong first-blood, the Lochvaur will be vulnerable to the other kindreds.”
“I don’t want the throne.”
“Then, all the more reason you should be our queen in the interim,” Cahal said. “You won’t abuse the power.”
Lachlei shook her head. “Cahal, I can’t…”
“Why?”
“I’m not the warrior Fialan was—there’s never been a woman champion,” Lachlei said.
“Perhaps it’s time there was one,” Cahal replied. “We have always had women Chi’lan—why not a champion? Until the Council chooses a champion, or until one wins in trial by combat, you’re the only one who can keep the Lochvaur together.”
“Trial by combat? A champion hasn’t been chosen like that in centuries.”
“Maybe they should—that’s how Rhyn’athel chose his champions in earlier times.”
Lachlei smiled wryly, wiping her eyes. “Don’t tell me you believe in those old stories?”
“Why not?” Cahal said with a shrug. “I do believe that I am looking at his next champion.”
“I’m sure others have something to say about that.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “Let’s go. Your warriors await you.”
8
The weeks that followed were difficult for Lachlei. With her appointment to queen in the interim, she had to rule the Lochvaur and perform her duties as Chi’lan as well. Laewynd, the head of the High Council, seemed content to take over her administrative duties, and for that Lachlei was thankful. Yet, as each day passed, something began to gnaw on her.
Perhaps it had been the method of Fialan’s death that left her uneasy. Perhaps it was the Sight. Rumors abounded of a massing of armies in the North. The Silren, it was said, were on the move. But, the Elesil and Redel were also gathering, and Lachlei suspected that the Lochvaur might have to defend their lands. Lachlei found herself riding outside of the Caer Lochvaren’s gates more often to clear her mind. She began to detest the confining walls now, seeking the solace of the mountains or the windswept plains.
“Scouts have returned from North Marches,” Cahal said as Lachlei rode beside him outside of Caer Lochvaren. Despite her protestations, Cahal refused to allow her to travel alone. “The news is not good.”
“The Silren?” Lachlei asked.
“There are signs that the Silren are massing. For what, we can’t be certain.”
Lachlei said nothing. Instead, she looked ahead. They were riding in the foothills of the Lochvaren Mountains, not far from the hill where Fialan’s pyre had been. The aspen and birch were beginning to change color now—brilliant gold and fire red against the conifers. The path was well-traveled; it made its way through a cleft and wound its way deep into the mountains.
It had been a month since Fialan’s pyre had lit the sky above Caer Lochvaren, and still nothing had been decided. The High Council had not appointed a king, and there were rumors of an impending war.
“Lachlei?” Cahal asked. He had become used to her moodiness, knowing well that she thought constantly about Fialan in her sojourns.
“Laewynd assures me that we have naught to fear,” Lachlei replied heavily. “The army isn’t mine to command…”
“What of the Chi’lan?” demanded Cahal. “They are your guard.”
“Two thousand,” Lachlei replied heavily. “Two thousand against the Silren and Elesil armies? Even though we are Chi’lan, it will be a slaughter. Laewynd assures me that something will be done if the Lochvaur are attacked.”
“Laewynd,” Cahal spat. “A disgrace to the Chi’lan if there was one.”
“He is our oldest and most experienced warrior,” Lachlei said.
“Laewynd is a coward,” Cahal replied. “He became Chi’lan to become a member of the High Council—nothing more. He is no warrior.”
Lachlei smiled slightly at his outburst. “Fialan thought he was useful.”
“Fialan knew how to use the Council,” Cahal said. “He didn’t let Laewynd get his way. How old is he? Five hundred years, if a day.”
Lachlei chuckled. “He did avoid the Chi’lan’s early death,” she admitted. “But you can hardly blame him. I have no desire to meet the death god, either.”
Cahal shrugged. “None of us do, Lachlei, but we are still Chi’lan and bound to serve the warrior god. I see none of that loyalty to Rhyn’athel. I only see ambition.”
“As do I,” Lachlei admitted. “But Laewynd is happy to work behind the scenes—not take power. That is his way, Cahal. Laewynd is the High Council, and the High Council is Laewynd. I must work with him if I am to have the army.”
Cahal shook his head. The late afternoon sun was already behind the mountains and the shadows were long. “We should be heading back, my queen,” he said. “It will soon be nightfall.”
Lachlei nodded, feeling tired. “Indeed,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m a disappointment to the Chi’lan,” she said softly as they rode side-by-side.
“Disappointment?” Cahal asked sharply. “Why do you say that?”
“I can see it in my warriors’ eyes,” she said. “I let the Council make me queen for the interim because there was no one else, and yet, I feel powerless. I’m not the champion Fialan was.”