Free Lachlei by M. H. Bonham Page A

to the Nine Worlds. I was Rhyn’athel’s champion and the creature that killed me should have died when I thrust my blade into it.”
    Eshe lowered her hood. “You killed it?”
    “It was supposedly a Silren , Eshe, but it killed my Chi’lan warriors with a glance. I struck it in the chest. It would’ve killed a first-blood, Eshe. My sword was a magical weapon.”
    Eshe paused. “Your sword was adamantine?”
    “From Athelren . Nothing could’ve survived Fyren’s blow.”
    “ Fyren ?” she whispered. “ Fyren ?”
    “You know the blade, then?”
    “ Fyren is a legendary demon slayer,” Eshe said. “It was Lochvaur’s blade before he forged his own Sword of Power. No demon could withstand that sword.”
    “Whatever killed me did,” Fialan said. “I buried Fyren into its chest. It prevented me from using my powers.”
    A glint of hope shone in Eshe’s eyes. “There are very few that could withstand that blade. That who could withstand Fyren , would violate the Truce…”
    Fialan grinned. “My thoughts exactly.”
    “What do you want of me?”
    “Take me to Lochvaur,” he said.

CHAPTER Sixteen
     
    Something wasn’t right.
    Ronan walked along the stockade fencing of North Marches, his senses at peak awareness. As commanding Chi’lan , Ronan was in charge of North Marches defenses, such as they were. Although he was not first-blood, Ronan came from ancient lines, and his instincts were sharply aware of both magical and non-magical dangers. His instincts told him something was about to happen.
    Ronan nodded to one of the sentries he passed along the earthen ramparts. It was quiet tonight, and the soldiers were making their rounds as they always had. It was routine, and yet…
    Ronan gazed into the darkness. The forest that surrounded the village of North Marches crested a hill to the north — the beginnings of the Lochvaren Mountains lay to the north and west. To the east lay the Silren lands. Ronan had never been fond of the Silren — what he had seen of them. Most avoided the village of North Marches, but a few did make their way here. Despite the Lochvaur attempt in friendship, most Silren preferred to avoid the Lochvaur .
    “ Silren ,” he muttered as he walked towards one of the other Chi’lan stationed along the ramparts. “Alasila, do you see anything tonight?”
    “Ronan,” the woman nodded. Alasila was one of the many women Chi’lan in North Marches. “Nothing save the cursed moon.”
    Ronan chuckled, looking up at the pale moon. “Tomah and Iamar don’t even show themselves with that evil thing. I was wondering if you had seen anything to worry about.”
    Alasila shook her head. “Nothing.” She gave Ronan an appraising look. “Do you sense something?”
    “Maybe,” Ronan said. He gazed out at the forest and saw a shadow creep along the ground. “What do you make of that?”
    Alasila looked out at the shadow as it crept towards the village. “Fog, maybe?”
    Ronan frowned. “The fog comes from the valleys, not the hills.” He stared at it for a minute. “Signal the watch,” he said. “It’s an army.”
    “An army?” Alasila glanced at the shadow. She could see nothing unusual about it.
    “Do what I say!” Ronan snarled. “We need all available warriors here now!”
    *****
     
    The bells of North Marches pealed across the land. Deep within the mist, the Silren army rode with Areyn at the lead. Areyn swore and reined the demon horse as the watch fires along the North Marches’ ramparts sprang to life.
    “They’ve seen us,” said Galen.
    Areyn almost killed the commander, but held his temper. The fool would die soon enough, but now Areyn needed him. “Give the command to charge,” Areyn said.
    “But the ramparts…”
    “I’ll take care of the ramparts,” Areyn said. “Lead them!”
    Galen nodded and turned to his warriors. “The order has been given! Charge!”
    All at once, the mist blew away, revealing thousands of Silren riders. Galen brandished his