Lachlei by M. H. Bonham

in North Marches?” Cahal asked.
    Rhyn thought of North Marches, his supposed home. How many were there in that village? His mind reached out to survey the village and felt the equivalent of a hard slap. He hesitated, trying again to focus on the village…
    “Rhyn?” Lachlei asked, breaking the god’s concentration. His eyes had become glassy. They now returned to meet her gaze. “Are you all right?”
    Rhyn smiled weakly. “Sorry, I get distracted when I’m tired.”
    Lachlei shook her head. “Of course, you’ve had a long ride.” She turned to Cahal. “Can you bring him to the Great Hall and see to his needs, Cahal? I must meet the Council and discuss this vote with them. Kellachan?”
    Rhyn was going to object, but nodded instead. He didn’t want to leave her — now that he was mortal. But he didn’t want her to suspect he was anything other than a Chi’lan . Not yet. Not now. “I will see you later?”
    “I’m sure you will,” she said. Lachlei turned to her cousin and motioned him to follow her.
    Rhyn watched Lachlei as she disappeared from sight and felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Cahal grinning at him.
    “She is beautiful, isn’t she?” the Chi’lan remarked.
    “That she is,” Rhyn agreed.
    “Come on, let’s get you some food,” Cahal said and led Rhyn in the opposite direction.
    Rhyn’athel followed silently, lost in his thoughts. He felt rather foolish at his reaction to her and everything around him. He felt so transparent — it would be simple for Areyn Sehduk to find him if he continued to act as if everything was new. He was a god — he created most of the things in this world. He knew the very secrets of the Nine Worlds — where the Runestones lay, where the Web of Wyrd touched the fabric of this world, where the Fyr lay chained — but he gawked at simple things like a village or a woman. Rhyn’athel had thought that knowing was the same as experiencing. He was quickly getting a lesson in the experience area.
    “I’d be a little more subtle, if I were you,” Cahal remarked, breaking the god out of his reverie. They halted at the main gates to Caer Lochvaren. Chi’lan and soldiers guarded the massive iron gates that protected the fortress inside. They nodded to Cahal as both he and Rhyn’athel passed through.
    Rhyn’athel hesitated, but he could see Cahal smiling. “Don’t worry — I won’t say anything,” the Chi’lan assured him. “That’s the first time Lachlei has smiled since Fialan’s death. And Rhyn’athel only knows why she decided to accept the throne. Lachlei wouldn’t even consider it before you appeared.”

CHAPTER Twelve
     
    Fialan stared at Eshe. “What? I can’t be dead!”
    Eshe smirked as she leaned against the polearm. “Really?” she said. “What was the last thing you remember before you woke up here?”
    “I was in a battle with a demon that looked like a Silren …” he began. He paused as the voices came unbidden to his mind.
    “What are you? Demon?”
    “Your death. I grow weary of this game.”
    “I can’t be dead. What about Lachlei? My son, Haellsil? My kingdom?” He tried desperately to access the mind-link he shared with Lachlei, but it was gone. Fialan stared at Eshe in disbelief. “The mind-link — what happened to it?”
    Eshe sighed, looking bored. “They all say this — or something like it.” She eyed him in amusement. “So, you were a king?”
    “Heir of Lochvaur,” he said. “First-blood.”
    “You’ll find Lochvaur here too,” she said. “I fought for him. Your titles and bloodlines have little meaning here. Your first-blood powers will not work anymore.”
    Fialan drew a sharp inward breath and then shook his head. “I can’t be dead — I breathe.”
    “You have a body in this world,” said Eshe. “Courtesy of Areyn.” She turned and began to walk away.
    “Where are you going?” Fialan called after her, running to catch up.
    “Back to the others,” Eshe said. “My job with