by Tim Waggoner
Bergerron didn’t look up as the lean warforged guard approached with Vaddon in tow. This wasn’t necessarily a bad sign, Vaddon knew. Bergerron had the ability to focus single-mindedly on a task, concentrating so deeply that he wasn’t aware of his surroundings. Vaddon hadn’t seen Bergerron for months, not since the symbiont project began, but the warlord hadn’t changed all that much. He’d put on a few pounds, but given his love of good food and drink, that was hardly a surprise. Despite the extra weight, and the fact that the man was in his mid-sixties, Bergerron still resembled the strong soldier he once was. He was broad-shouldered, strong-jawed, and though his shoulder-length hair was silver, his full beard still held a goodly amount of black. Though Bergerron was a powerful, wealthy man, he dressed simply, as was the fashion for Karrnath’s warlords, who wished to prove that despite their exalted rank, they were still in touch with the common soldiers they had once been.
The lean warforged stopped in front of the warlord’s chair and waited to be recognized, while the squat guard took up a position near the door. Bergerron continued reading until he finished the page he was on, then closed the book and looked up.
“General Brochann to see you, Warlord,” the warforged said in a hollow, unemotional voice.
“Thank you, Longstrider. You and Shatterfist may leave.”
The warforged named Longstrider turned toward Vaddon and regarded him for a moment. Longstrider’s stone features remained fixed and unchanging, as was normal for his kind, but Vaddon had the feeling the creature was sizing him up and trying to decide whether he could be trusted alone with his master. Evidently Vaddon passed muster in the end, for the warforged departed, followed by Shatterfist, who closed the library door behind them. Vaddon knew the guards would take up positions on either side of the door in the outer hall and wait for Bergerron’s summons should he need them. Bergerron may have implicitly vouched for Vaddon’s trustworthiness by telling the guards they could leave, but that didn’t mean the two warforged would go far.
Bergerron smiled at Vaddon. “Sorry it took me a moment to realize you were here. I often get lost when reading poetry.”
“I prefer military histories, myself.”
Bergerron smiled. “Spoken like a true son of Karrnath. Still, it never hurts to broaden one’s horizons, does it? Remember what they teach at Rekkenmark: ‘One never knows what knowledge may turn the tide of battle.’ ”
“True.” But even so, Vaddon didn’t think he’d be borrowing any of Bergerron’s poetry collections in the near future.
“To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” Bergerron asked. “I assume you received my message to shut down the Outguard’s project and vacate the lodge.” He frowned. “I hope you’re not here to try to get me to change my mind.”
“No, Warlord. I received your message. I’m here to report what I did upon reading your message”-he paused-“and what happened afterward.”
Bergerron raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing, merely waited for Vaddon to continue.
Despite his rank and decades of experience, right then Vaddon felt like a green recruit called on the carpet in front of his commanding officer. He took a deep breath and without preamble launched into his report, though it was a struggle for him to maintain control of his emotions toward the end. Bergerron listened without expression or reaction.
“So, the project was a success of sorts,” he said after a moment.
Vaddon started to object, but Bergerron held up a hand to forestall him. “Of course what happened to your brother and daughter is regrettable, but their transformations have proven Elidyr’s basic theory: Symbionts can make significant weapons. Perhaps not controllable ones at this point, but even if the hosts remained wild and chaotic, they could still be of use. We would only need to aim them at an enemy and turn them loose …”
Vaddon didn’t believe what he was hearing. When he was a young soldier, he’d served under Bergerron in numerous campaigns, and he’d always admired the man’s bravery and sharp, strategic mind. That was why he’d continued to serve the warlord even though the Last War was over. Whenever the Next War inevitably came, Vaddon wanted to be leading troops under Bergerron’s banner. But the words coming out of the warlord’s mouth now were madness.
“My lord, did you not listen to my tale? The experiment was a disaster! Not only were Lirra and Elidyr turned into uncontrollable monsters, we almost allowed a daelkyr lord to come through into our world!”
Bergerron gave Vaddon an icy glare. “You are understandably distraught over what has happened to your family members, Vaddon, and for that I shall forgive your impertinence. This time. But try to remember your training-in battle, emotions are often the real enemy we must fight.”
Another platitude they passed along at the Rekkenmark Academy, and up to this point, one Vaddon had believed in. But now it was just a hollow saying, bereft of meaning. How could he ignore the hideous transformation that had befallen his beloved daughter and brother? But Bergerron was his warlord, and Vaddon had pledged his allegiance to the man, and so he would do his best to keep a tighter rein on his emotions.
Vaddon inclined his head stiffly. “Please accept my apologies, Warlord, along with my gratitude.”
Bergerron made a dismissive gesture, and a thoughtful expression came over his face.
“You did the right thing by coming here as soon as possible to inform me of what occurred,” Bergerron said. “Tell me, what are the rest of the Outguard doing right now?”
“I gave them orders to complete our withdrawal from the lodge, and then to return to the garrison at Geirrid when the task was finished. Three of my people will make camp on the town’s outskirts where they will guard the dolgaunt Sinnoch until my return. The creature swears he had nothing to do with the Overmantle’s malfunction, but I don’t trust him. I’d have killed him if I didn’t think he might still be of some use in finding Lirra and Elidyr.”
Bergerron nodded. “Very good. And what of the Overmantle?”
“Elidyr damaged it before departing the lodge, but it remains with those guarding the dolgaunt. There is no danger of the creature repairing it and using it for his own purposes, not without my brother’s guidance.”
“I see.” Bergerron paused for a moment then, as if trying to decide whether or not to continue. “Do you have any idea why I ordered you to shut down the symbiont project so abruptly?”
“I’d assumed that the project’s secrecy had been compromised somehow. I intended to look into the matter after we had vacated the lodge.”
“You assumed correctly, Vaddon. One of my spies informed me that Arnora Raskogr had somehow gotten wind that something strange was going on at my hunting lodge and that she was planning on letting Kaius know.” Bergerron gave Vaddon a thin smile. “We couldn’t have that now, could we?”
“No, Warlord.”
Vaddon had guessed it was something like that. The intrigues between Karrnath’s warlords were constant and never-ending, and they’d only gotten worse with the cessation of hostilities. Warriors needed battles to fight, he supposed, even if they had to manufacture the reasons for those battles themselves.
“I thought you and Warlord Raskogr were on relatively good terms,” Vaddon said.
“The key word is relatively.” Bergerron grimaced. “For a time she was allied with those of us who believe Kaius to be too weak to lead our nation, but recently she’s begun cozying up to him in order to gain his favor. I doubt she’s suddenly had a change of heart regarding Kaius’s suitability as a ruler. But if nothing else, Arnora has always been a pragmatic woman, and she’s likely come to believe that the winds of fortune are currently blowing in Kaius’s direction. If she could cast suspicion on me, and Kaius learned of my true feelings about him and the steps I’ve taken to, if not overthrow him, at least undermine his power, Kaius would be grateful, and Arnora would rise significantly in status.”
“How did she find out about the symbiont project?”
Bergerron shrugged. “N
o doubt from one of her spies serving in my keep. Oh, don’t look so shocked, Vaddon. We all have spies planted in each other’s homes.” He grinned. “Keeps us on our toes.”
It all sounded more than a little childish to Vaddon, and he was beginning to regret his pledge to serve Bergerron. “At least the lodge is vacant now, and all traces of the experiment have been removed. Warlord Raskogr will never learn of what happened there.”
Bergerron scowled. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. In order to provide Kaius with more than idle speculation, she would’ve dispatched agents of her own to investigate what was happening at the lodge. It’s entirely possible my message-though sent as swiftly as possible-arrived too late, and you were already under surveillance. If that was the case-”
“Then someone might’ve witnessed both Elidyr and Lirra leaving the lodge,” Vaddon finished.
Bergerron nodded. “And the whereabouts of both remain unknown?”
Despair clutched at Vaddon’s heart, but he did his best to keep his feelings from showing. “Yes, Warlord. We searched the environs around the lodge before I left, but we found no trace of them. None of the horses were missing, so we know both are on foot.” Considering the way a horse would react to a rider bonded to a symbiont, it wasn’t surprising both Lirra and Elidyr had chosen to walk. “This leads me to the main reason I’ve come before you. I request permission to keep the Outguard together for the time being and to remain in command of them, so that I might search for my daughter and brother. Not merely because I am personally concerned for their safety,” he hastened to add, “but because I believe that in their current state they pose a very real threat to the people of Karrnath. And while the safety of our fellow countrymen is no doubt of most importance to you, it would be awkward for you if one of the other warlords-Raskogr, say-should learn about Lirra and Elidyr and capture them first.”
Bergerron looked Vaddon up and down as if reappraising him. “I imagine you spent quite a lot of time working up that little speech.”
Vaddon kept his expression carefully neutral. “As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Well, it worked. I’m actually rather impressed. You always struck me as less of a thinker and more of a reliable, stolid man at arms. Looks like you have a bit of warlord in you, Vaddon.”
Vaddon’s gut curdled at what he took to be an insult, but he forced himself to say, “Thank you, Warlord.”
“Very well, permission granted.” Bergerron held up a pair of fingers. “With two conditions: One, when you capture your brother and daughter, I want them brought here to my keep. If there’s any chance we can train them to be … cooperative soldiers, I want to make sure we give them every opportunity. Agreed?”
Vaddon’s face remained impassive but inside he seethed with anger. He wanted to capture Lirra and Elidyr so that the aberrations that corrupted their bodies and minds could be removed and, the Host willing, their sanity restored. He knew that he’d never be able to turn them over to be used as tools in Bergerron’s intrigues-Lirra especially. The symbiont project was misguided and misbegotten from the start. Vaddon regretted ever taking part in it, and once Lirra and Elidyr were returned to normal, he intended to do everything he could to make certain that symbionts were never used as weapons in Karrnath again. But he knew that if he told Begerron any of this, he’d never obtain the man’s permission to continue commanding the Outguard. And that meant, for the first time in his career, Vaddon would have to lie to a superior.
He didn’t hesitate. “Agreed.”
“Excellent. Now for the second condition.” He raised his voice. “Shatterfist, Longstrider, come in, please.”
The library door opened and the two warforged guards entered and crossed the room to stand before their master.
Begerron looked at Vaddon. “These are two of my best warforged. As of this moment they are assigned to the Outguard under your command, Vaddon, but while they shall take orders from you, ultimately, they will answer to me.” A slow smile spread across the warlord’s face. “If Lirra and Elidyr have truly become as dangerous as you say, I figure you could use the extra muscle. Agreed?”
Vaddon knew he had been outmaneuvered. Bergerron had guessed that he’d had no intention of delivering Lirra and Elidyr to him, and so he’d decided to send along his pet warforged to make certain Vaddon did as he wanted. Though Vaddon raged inwardly at this development, on one level he couldn’t help admiring the warlord’s keen grasp of strategy.
“Agreed,” he said through clenched teeth.
At least for the time being, he thought darkly, giving the two warforged a narrow-eyed glance.
The artificial constructs gazed back at him with their armorlike faces, and whatever thoughts they might’ve had about their new assignment they kept to themselves.
CHAPTER TEN
Lirra had no memory of the sun setting. It seemed that one moment it was day, the next it was night. She had no clear idea where she was either. She was walking across a grassy field that she took to be pastureland for cows, based on the occasional pile of dung she passed, though she’d seen no actual cattle so far. There were no farms of any sort in the vicinity of the lodge. The closest she knew about lay outside the town of Geirrid, but it wasn’t possible that she had traveled that far since leaving the lodge … was it?
She remembered leaving the lodge in search of Elidyr, remembered making her way through forestland, hiding when necessary to avoid Outguard patrols her father had sent out to search for her. While her symbiont granted her no special abilities when it came to concealment, it did possess a certain animal cunning that she was able to draw on, and combined with her battle experience, it allowed her to evade detection and capture. She’d been surprised and, though she was reluctant to admit it to herself, pleased to discover that her symbiont was proving to be an even more useful tool than she’d originally thought.
Too bad it hadn’t sharpened her sense of time. Hours had to have passed since she left the lodge, but though she searched her memory, she couldn’t account for them all. Her hours traveling through the forest were a blur of trees and fields seen through a white-hot rage that only seemed to intensify as the time passed. She was furious at Elidyr for having bungled the experiment so badly-and for having the idiocy to conceive of the symbiont project in the first place. She was furious at her father for not understanding why she needed to find and stop Elidyr and sending forth the Outguard to get in her way. She was furious at Rhedyn for standing stupidly by and watching as the tentacle whip attached itself to her and for not finding the stones to act against Elidyr until it was too late to make a difference. And to make matters worse, she was hungry, thirsty, and her feet ached from all the walking she’d done this day.
The night sky was overcast, as it often was this time of year, and the cloud cover blocked the moons. Though Karrns preferred straightforward battle-which normally meant fighting by daylight-Lirra was no stranger to making her way across country in the dark, and it seemed that her night vision had grown a bit sharper, no doubt another benefit granted by her symbiont. But even so, she was having trouble navigating through the shadows that surrounded her. Her mind felt sluggish, almost feverish, and she was having trouble making sense of the things she saw and heard. It was almost like the confusion that came with being drunk, except without the accompanying pleasant numbness. Most likely she was still adjusting to having joined with a symbiont. Hopefully her mind would clear eventually. In the meantime, she had to find Elidyr, and when she did …
She heard a sound off to her right, a snuffling as if something large was breathing close by. Without thinking she spun and flung her left arm in its direction. Her tentacle whip unfurled, and as the barbed tip flew through the air, wild elation filled her, and she couldn’t tell whether it originated from the symbiont or her. She saw the shape standing before her, a dark outline framed against the night, and for an instant she allowed herself to believe she had caught up with her uncle at last. But she quickly realized the shape was the wrong
size-too long and low to the ground-and whatever it was, it possessed four legs instead of two. Elidyr might’ve fused with a trio of symbionts, but when he’d departed the lodge, he’d done so on a single pair of legs.
She felt more than saw the barbed tip sink into flesh, sensed poison being injected into whatever creature the whip had struck. Lirra yanked the whip away from its victim, but it was too late. The poison had been delivered, and the creature swayed and collapsed heavily on its side without making a sound. For all Lirra knew, the creature could’ve been some dangerous wild animal, and while the symbiont’s poison had brought it down, that didn’t mean the creature was dead yet. But she was too horrified at the ease with which she’d lost control of the whip, how she’d lashed out without thinking, and she walked over to the downed beast and kneeled beside it, the tentacle whip undulating in the air over the creature, almost quivering in its excitement to strike again. Lirra ignored it and placed her hand on the beast’s side. She felt short-haired hide over solid muscle, and she knew what she had brought down before she heard the animal’s soft, pained exhalation of breath. The whip had poisoned a cow.
The animal began to pant, sides bellowing in and out as she struggled to draw air into her rapidly failing body. It didn’t take long for the symbiont’s poison to do its work. Several moments later the cow’s breathing slowed, she shuddered once, and then lay still. But though the animal was dead, Lirra slowly stroked the cow’s side.
An accident, she thought. Nothing more. And it wasn’t as if she’d killed a human. She had nothing to feel guilty about. So why were trails of hot tears streaming down her face?
You’re overtired and dehydrated, she told herself. That’s all.
Thoughts whispered in her mind, then-but though she heard them spoken in her own voice, she knew they weren’t hers.
It was just a stupid animal. Scrawny too, from the feel of it. You did it a favor by killing it quickly. It was obviously sickly and would’ve succumbed to illness before long-or perhaps fallen to the jaws of a predator. Either way, it would’ve done its owner no good if it had lived. Too skinny to give good milk, too slight of frame to provide much beef. This way, at least it won’t eat any more grass that could go to feed stronger animals.