Free Lachlei by M. H. Bonham

believe the Chi’lan named Eshe. She didn’t talk or look back as she walked across the barren landscape towards what appeared to be cliffs in the distance.
    And yet, the world was as alien as anything Fialan had ever dreamed of. It was bleak and red, obviously due to a play of the sun’s light on the land. As his eyes began to adjust to the dimness, he could see other Eleion wandering the vast plains. Some huddled in groups; some alone. Occasionally, a few considered him with interest, but most ignored his presence and none spoke to him.
    Fialan caught up with Eshe and grasped her arm. She had drawn her cowl over her head and wrapped the cloak tightly around herself against the cold. “Will you talk to me?”
    Eshe paused. “Why?”
    “You spoke to me earlier.”
    “That’s because I had to,” she said, pulling her arm from his grasp.
    “Why?” Fialan asked.
    “Because I had to,” she said and turned to leave. He caught her arm again. “Leave me alone, Fialan.”
    “No,” Fialan said. “How long have you been here?”
    “Time doesn’t mean anything here.”
    “It must,” Fialan mused. “You said you served Lochvaur in the Battle of the Nine Worlds?”
    Eshe glared at him. Fialan held her arm. “Yes,” she said at last. “Let me go.”
    “No. I won’t unless you answer my questions.”
    “I could use my polearm.”
    “And I could use my sword,” Fialan said. “But if what you say is true, and I am dead, then you can’t kill me again.”
    “You’ll feel pain,” Eshe replied.
    A smile played across Fialan’s lips. “Really?”
    “What’s so amusing?” She stared at him.
    “You and I could fight each other and not die,” he said.
    “You’ll regenerate your body.”
    “Courtesy of Areyn Sehduk?”
    Her eyes hardened — steel points within the darkness of the cowl. “Yes.”
    “But I am Rhyn’athel’s champion,” he said.
    “ Were Rhyn’athel’s champion,” she said. “Rhyn’athel has no power here.”
    “Why do you say that?” he said. “You’re Chi’lan — you’re Rhyn’athel’s warrior.”
    Eshe shook her head. “I was Rhyn’athel’s warrior,” she said. “Rhyn’athel abandoned us to Areyn after the war. Areyn took the dead, Fialan. We are beholden to the death god.”
    “I don’t believe that,” Fialan said.
    “You’ve just died, you don’t know…”
    “Don’t know what?”
    Again, the hatred glowed in her eyes. “You’ll learn…”
    “Learn what?”
    Eshe took a breath. “You have no will save Areyn’s. You will do as he commands.” She looked on him in pity. “Fialan, Rhyn’athel has abandoned us to our fate with the death god. Rhyn’athel has abandoned his own son, Lochvaur, to Areyn for the sake of the Nine Worlds. No one, save perhaps Lochvaur and a few of his followers believe that Rhyn’athel will return for us. It has been so long, Fialan.”
    “So, you believe you should just give up?” Fialan asked.
    Eshe shook her head. “Fialan, I used to believe as you do. But Areyn uses us; he drains us of our life force like a leech until we can barely survive. But, we are creations of Rhyn’athel and we grow strong again — only to feed Areyn.” She shuddered and pulled herself away. “It’s awful — and we don’t speak of it ever. You’ll learn.”
    Fialan let her go and she shuffled away from him. The thought of having his life force drained filled him with horror, but he pushed it from his mind.
    “Lochvaur hasn’t given up — why?” Fialan asked.
    Eshe stopped and shook her head. “I don’t know.”
    “Eshe — wait!” Fialan called to her. At first, he thought she would continue forward, but she stopped and turned around. “I’ll leave you alone after this — I promise.”
    Eshe’s eyes glinted under her dark cowl. “What is it?”
    “I have been the strongest Chi’lan champion since Lochvaur. No mortal creature slew me, Eshe.”
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    “It does matter. It matters not just to me, but