Lachlei grasped the hilt of her broken sword and tried to pick it up. The weight was too great, and it clattered along the ground. She tried again, and this time brought it forward. With all her might, she flung her hand outward, but her fingers loosened, and the sword skittered away out of reach. Lachlei groaned in pain and closed her eyes.
That is hardly any way to greet your lover.
“Rhyn?” she rasped. Lachlei forced her eyes open. “You’re alive…” She tried to focus on the figure that stood before her, but her vision was blurred.
She felt his gentle hands slide along her body. The pain was suddenly gone, and her vision cleared.
“You can’t kill an Athel’cen,” Rhyn’athel chided her lightly. “You know that.” The warrior god knelt beside her. “How do you feel?”
Lachlei smiled wryly. “Do you want to know?”
Rhyn’athel’s silver eyes glittered mischievously. “I suppose not,” he admitted. “Taking the brunt of Areyn’s wrath is bad enough for a god—I can’t imagine what it might do to a mortal.” He offered her his hand.
Lachlei took it and found herself pulled into his arms. Rhyn’athel kissed her passionately. “I thought you were lost,” she whispered. “Even Ni’yah couldn’t be sure. Only Lochvaur…”
“Lochvaur is much more than he appears,” Rhyn’athel agreed.
“He said he was Athel’cen,” Lachlei said. “But you said he was Wyrd-blood.”
Rhyn’athel grinned. “Yes, he is both and neither. It’s very complex…” He continued to kiss her.
“Evidently.” She pulled away and looked at him quizzically.
“What is it, beloved?” Rhyn asked. “Something is troubling you?”
“Areyn said that as Athel’cen you couldn’t love,” she said.
“Did he now?” the god of warriors said, kissing her again.
“Rhyn?” Lachlei said as his lips moved to her throat. She pushed him away. “He said you chose me because of the sons I would bear…”
“He told you about the Wyrd prophecy, did he?”
“Then, it’s true…” Lachlei said, feeling her anger rise. “That’s why Ni’yah couldn’t deny it.”
“Areyn is a master at twisting the truth to his own purpose,” Rhyn’athel replied. He traced the lines of her face with his fingers. “Lachlei, I fell in love with you the moment I saw you. The Wyrd prophecy came later—because of my love for you…”
“Then, you loved me before you knew of the prophecy?”
“Oh yes,” he smiled.
“But, you can love? Areyn said…”
“Areyn can’t love, beloved,” he said. “But I can. Areyn speaks of his own experience as Athel’cen—he can’t speak for either me or Ni’yah.”
Lachlei smiled wryly. “I guess I was foolish to listen to him.”
“Not foolish, just unprepared,” Rhyn’athel said. “Many have fallen for Areyn’s lies, I assure you. And some of those have been gods.”
“What happened with the Fyr and what happened when you challenged Areyn?” Lachlei asked.
“Later, beloved,” Rhyn’athel said. “It is time we rejoined our army.” He held Fyren out to her, whole as though it had never been broken. “You’ll need this.”
“Our army?” she said, staring in wonder at the blade.
“Have you forgotten about your army?” came a wry voice.
Lachlei turned and saw Ni’yah sitting on a horse, leading two others. “Ni’yah?” she spoke.
The god grinned. “It seems, lady, I am in your debt. But your army awaits you.”
“The Chi’lan? We were decimated,” Lachlei whispered.
Ni’yah glanced knowingly at Rhyn’athel.
Rhyn’athel shook his head. “No, beloved,” he said. “Your warriors await.”
They mounted their horses and rode forward. Through the smoke, Lachlei could see row after row of Chi’lan warriors. She stared at them and then glanced at Rhyn’athel in wonder. There were faces she recognized, but many she did not. The warriors began to cheer as they rode by.
“Rhyn’athel! Rhyn’athel!”
To her surprise, Lachlei began to hear her own name mixed into the chants. “Lachlei! Lachlei!”
She glanced at Rhyn’athel in wonder. “Why are they cheering me?”
“When you freed Lochvaur and me, you tipped the balance back in our favor,” Ni’yah replied. “Rhyn’athel used much of his power to contain the Fyr, he couldn’t return to fight Areyn without our help.”
Lachlei stared. “Is that true?”
Rhyn smiled slightly. “My brother tends to exaggerate things, but yes, you brought me back.”
Lachlei laughed. “So I did get my revenge after all,” she said.
“Indeed,” said Rhyn’athel, but his gaze was distracted. He reined his horse before a warrior. Lachlei stared at the man who stood before them. It was Lochvaur, but the last time she had seen him, he had either been in chains or as a glowing warrior. Looking on him now, Lachlei stared at the godling in awe. He was nearly as impressive as his father, looking like Rhyn’athel in mortal form. He was a tall Chi’lan warrior with a hardened gaze. Rhyn’athel dismounted his steed. They embraced in the typical Chi’lan greeting, gripping both arms.
Lochvaur laughed and hugged Rhyn’athel. “Father!” he said.
“I told you I wouldn’t abandon you to Areyn,” Rhyn’athel said.
“I never lost faith.” He paused. “Even if you did need my help.” He turned and nodded at Lachlei. “Lachlei.”
“Lochvaur,” Lachlei said. “I am glad to meet you under less dire circumstances.”
“Indeed,” Lochvaur said, considering her carefully. “So, you are the mortal woman who defied Areyn Sehduk.” He met his father’s gaze, and Lachlei could sense something unspoken passed between the two. “There is someone you should meet,” he said. He turned and nodded to a Chi’lan warrior who stood back among the other warriors.
“Hello, Lachlei,” Fialan said.
87
Cara stared as an army of warriors, larger than anything she had seen yet, filled Darkling Plain. “By Rhyn’athel’s mane—who are they?” She turned to Haukel, who shook his head.
“They’re not the Braesan,” Haukel said. “They look alive.”
Cara’s eyes scanned the warriors. Red and gold manes and surcoats shone in the sun. “They’re Chi’lan,” she whispered. “But I’ve never seen so many.”
“Not all Chi’lan,” came a familiar voice. “Though I suspect Rhyn’athel considers me one of his warriors.” Cara turned and saw the Elesil king standing beside her. “Conlan!” she gasped and hugged him. “By the gods! You were dead!”
“Were,” Conlan said. “But not of this world, either. Rhyn’athel forced Areyn to give up his warriors.”
“Areyn has lost the dead?”
Conlan shook his head. “Not entirely. Those who were loyal to Rhyn’athel will return to the Hall of the Gods. And I suppose, those who have aided Rhyn’athel’s cause…”
“Then, you won’t be staying?”
He shook his head. “Not long. I’ve already spoken to Rani, she is now queen of the Elesil.” He eyed her as she lowered her head. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Cara admitted. “I’ve felt so…” She shook her head. “Damn it, Conlan! I’ve felt responsible for your death.”
“The price of being Chi’lan…”
“Chi’lan,” she muttered. “I don’t know what it means to be Chi’lan.”