Lady Ruin lr-1

by Tim Waggoner

  Lirra was sickened by her uncle’s words, but she did her best not to show it. “Why me? If you truly are so powerful now, why do you need anyone’s help?”

  “I may be powerful, child, but I’m not a god. And as I told you, I’m not insane. I know that the task which lies before me will not be an easy one, and I will have need of strong allies if I’m to succeed. I can’t think of anyone more suited to stand by my side than you. You’re an intelligent woman, a soldier trained at Rekkenmark and seasoned by battle. You bear a symbiont and-through the Overmantle-you have also experienced the power of Xoriat. And in the end, you are family.” He held out his hand, the one covered by the crawling gauntlet. “Come with me, Lirra, and together we shall reshape the world.”

  “You’re not really thinking of doing it, are you?” Ranja whispered in her ear. “Because if you are, let me know, so I can turn tail and run like blazes in the other direction.”

  Lirra ignored the shifter. “I won’t join you, Uncle. What you see as glorious, I see as horrible. What you view as gifts, I view as abominations.”

  “Young people. Always so rebellious.” Elidyr sighed and then shrugged. “Oh well. You can’t say I didn’t try.” He looked over his shoulder at the white-eyes. “Kill them both.”

  Elidyr’s monstrous servants shambled forward. Lirra gripped her sword tighter and the tentacle whip swayed in the air, the symbiont gleefully anticipating the mayhem to come. Ranja assumed her bestial aspect as she pulled another object out of her tunic pocket, this one a crystalline shard wrapped in coils of fine silver wire.

  “I’d tell you it’s been nice working with you,” the shifter said, as the shard began to glow with a crimson light, “but my mother taught me not to lie.”

  Just then a pair of warforged-one squat with large hands, the other tall and lean-came running down the street behind the white-eyes. The constructs were quickly followed by a half-dozen men and women on horseback, soldiers wearing the uniform of the Outguard, and leading them, sword in hand and raised high, was Lirra’s father.

  Lirra turned to Ranja and grinned.

  “It’s about time they showed up, don’t you think?”

  Then she turned back to face her uncle, shouted a war cry, and ran forward to battle. She sensed Ranja hesitate for a moment, and Lirra wouldn’t have been surprised if the spy chose that moment to flee and save her own hide. But instead she charged forward as well, and the two of them ran side by side toward the advancing white-eyes.

  Lirra told herself that whatever they’d been before, the white-eyes were no longer people. They were monsters under Elidyr’s control, and the most merciful thing to do would be to kill them and release them from the horrible state of non-life her uncle had forced upon them. But that didn’t make it easier for her to swing her sword at them-especially the children. But she’d been well trained and battle hardened, and she would do what had to be done. She raised her sword and swung at the first white-eye she came in contact with, one who had once been a young girl of no more than fourteen, and she kept on swinging until the creature went down.

  As she fought, part of her mind stayed focused on what she was doing, but another part kept watch on what was happening around her. When Elidyr became aware of the Outguard, he ordered his white-eyes to attack the oncoming soldiers. Up to this point, the white-eyes had moved slowly, and Lirra was surprised when several of them leaped into the air and knocked soldiers off their mounts. Two of the Outguard were dead before they hit the ground, but the rest managed to roll with the impact and scramble away from the white-eyes’ grasping hands before the monsters could catch hold. Once the soldiers were on their feet, they began hacking at the white-eyes, but Lirra knew their efforts would only succeed in delaying the monsters. The abominations would heal swiftly, and they did not tire, unlike the mortals who opposed them.

  The two warforged fared far better against Elidyr’s creations. Lirra didn’t know where her father had come by them, but her best guess was that he’d reported to Bergerron after the failure of the Overmantle, and the warlord had given the constructs to Vaddon to help track down Elidyr-and likely her as well. Formed of far more durable materials than mere flesh and blood, the warforged fought like living suits of armor, and took little damage from the white-eyes, though the creatures fought with strength far greater than their natural bodies had possessed. Some warforged were highly skilled at the use of weapons, but others had been designed to be weapons in and of themselves, and these two were definitely among the latter. The shorter warforged swung his oversized fists like giant hammers, slamming white-eyes against buildings and onto the ground. Bones splintered and flesh pulped beneath the warforged’s fists, but the moment he withdrew the injured white-eyes-none of whom made so much as a whimper as they’d been wounded-began to heal. As soon as their legs were functional again, they got back on their feet and resumed attacking, even if the rest of them was still in the process of being put right. White-eyes fought with shards of bone sticking out of their arms, with dented heads, with jaws hanging half off. But no matter how serious the injury they’d sustained, still no blood flowed from their wounds.

  The tall warforged fought with his hands as well, but his primary mode of attack was to use his long legs and spiked feet. He leaped into the air and delivered one devastating spinning kick after another, and white-eyes were tossed about as if caught in the throes of a cyclone, their flesh torn by the force of the warforged’s foot spikes. But even though the construct did just as much damage as his brother, the white-eyes refused to stay down, and within seconds they were up and fighting again.

  Vaddon remained in the saddle, shouting orders as he swung his sword at any white-eye that came near. Next to him was Ksana, sitting astride a horse and carrying her halberd. The half-elf’s eyes were closed and her lips moved silently as she mouthed a prayer. Lirra felt a wave of warmth pass over her, as if clouds had parted to permit a beam of sunlight to filter down from the heavens. She felt stronger, more alert, and the despair that had been begun nibbling at the edge of her awareness was pushed back. She’d experienced this effect on the battlefield before when Ksana called upon Dol Arrah for aid, but the experience remained as amazing and humbling as the first time she’d felt it.

  Lirra knew the others, Ranja included, also felt the effects of Dol Arrah’s blessing, for they fought with renewed vigor, and while the white-eyes continued to heal their wounds, they did so more slowly, and their movements became more sluggish. Her symbiont, however, not only didn’t seem to receive a boost from the goddess’s power, it actually seemed to lose strength. The tentacle whip continued to fight at her command, but it moved more slowly than usual, and its grip was no longer as strong.

  What’s wrong? she thought. Surely a bit of divine power can’t harm a big, strong symbiont like you.

  The whip didn’t respond, but Lirra had the distinct impression that it would’ve liked to tell her to shut her damn mouth. She dismissed the whip from her mind and continued fighting against the white-eyes.

  Rhedyn and Osten were there as well. Both had been among those soldiers who’d been knocked from their mounts during the white-eyes’ initial attack, but they had survived and were standing back to back, swords flashing as they fought to keep Elidyr’s creatures from tearing them apart. Rhedyn had called upon the strength of his shadow sibling, and he was cloaked by the symbiont’s dark aura. Osten had no such special abilities to rely on, but he nevertheless fought like a man possessed, his features set in a grim mask of determination as he swung his sword in one vicious arc after another. Osten had always been a competent fighter, but Lirra had never seen him like this, and she feared that what had happened at the lodge yesterday had caused permanent damage to his mind and spirit. The way he fought, without caution or restraint, made him appear as if he didn’t care whether he lived or died, just as long as he could get one more strike in at his opponent. Such an attitude could be a strong asset for a warrior, freeing him from fear and frightening enemies with his f
ierceness. But it could also be dangerous, not only for the warrior himself, but for any companions unfortunate enough to get too close to him during a fight.

  One member of the Outguard hung back and merely observed as the battle went on. Sinnoch, his features completely hidden by his overlarge robe, sat upon the back of a small brown mare who’d been specially enchanted by an animal trainer bearing a dragonmark of handling so that the horse would carry the dolgaunt without complaint. Even so, the mare pawed the ground restlessly and shook her head, clearly unhappy with having an unnatural creature like Sinnoch sitting astride her. Lirra wasn’t surprised that the dolgaunt only watched. Though he was not trained in the fighting arts, he was much stronger than a human and could’ve aided them if he wished, but that was not his way. She had no doubt he was sitting back and watching the battle unfold before him with great amusement. She wondered why her father had brought the dolgaunt along. Probably so that he might provide some insight into dealing with Elidyr, she decided. Otherwise, Sinnoch was useless. If she’d been in her father’s place, she’d have run the dolgaunt through and tossed his body onto the side of the road for those few scavengers that could stomach the unclean carcass.

  She felt a wave of satisfaction come from the tentacle whip.

  See? came the thought-voice that sounded so much like her own. We’re becoming more alike all the time …

  Lirra ignored the symbiont’s taunt and refocused her concentration on dealing with the latest white-eye before her. It was the fourteen-year-old girl again, wounds healed and come back for a second helping of punishment. Very well. Lirra would dish out some more for her.

  Though Ranja had assumed her full shifter aspect, she fought with her glowing crystal just as much as she did with her claws. She pointed the magical device at white-eyes and a crimson beam of energy lanced forth to strike the creatures. The energy entered into their bodies, suffusing them, until they radiated a gentle crimson light. The energy didn’t stop them altogether, but it slowed them down considerably, making it much easier for Ranja to gouge large chunks of flesh out of them with her claws.

  Lirra kept an eye on Elidyr while she fought. Her ultimate goal was to get past these damned white-eyes and reach her uncle. She didn’t know if there was a direct link between Elidyr and his creations, but during the Last War she’d seen wizards whose spells faltered the moment they went down, and so she knew it was possible that if she could render her uncle unconscious-or, if she was forced to, kill him-then the white-eyes might collapse like puppets who’d lost their puppeteer. But try as she might, she was unable to get past the white-eyes. Every time she put one down, another rose to take its place, and by the time that one fell, the first was back on its feet again.

  Up to this point, Elidyr had taken no direct part in the fighting. He’d simply stood by and watched as Lirra and the others engaged his creatures and fought desperately to stop them. Four of the Outguard had been killed, and two others had sustained wounds, though they continued to battle on. It was clear to Lirra that if things kept going as they were, it was only a matter of time before she, Ranja, and the Outguard were dead, and Elidyr was victorious.

  “This has all been great fun, but I have work to do,” Elidyr said. “Time to finish this. But how? It has to be something good. After all, I don’t want to do second-rate work, not where my brother and niece are concerned.”

  Elidyr reached up to stroke his beard, looking thoughtful. A moment later a gleam came into his eyes, and his mouth slowly stretched into a broad smile.

  “I know just the thing!”

  He raised his hands over his head and released a blast of chaos energy. Lirra felt it slam into her, and she staggered backward, suddenly disoriented. Her allies were similarly affected, and several of the surviving Outguard actually went down on their knees, unable to remain standing upright. Lirra expected that the white-eyes would take advantage of the situation to press their attack, but instead they broke off fighting, turned, and started walking unhurriedly toward Elidyr. They gathered in a group before him and huddled together, pressing their bodies tight one against the other. As they pressed, their flesh began to run like melting butter, and the white-eyes merged into a single large shapeless mass. No longer needed, their clothing slid away and piled on the street, and the skin of the combined creatures took on a whitish hue that resembled the eyes that were no longer visible. Dozens of tentacles extruded from the mass and shot toward Lirra and her allies, encircling waists, arms, and necks like bands of iron.

  One white-fleshed tentacle caught Lirra’s sword arm by the wrist, and though she struggled, she was unable to free herself. Her symbiont struck at the tentacle, stinging it with its barbed tip several times in rapid succession, but though the whitish flesh took on a black tinge and the tentacle’s grip slackened, it didn’t weaken enough for Lirra to pull loose.

  Everyone else was similarily bound by the white mass-everyone, that was, but Sinnoch, Lirra noted-and though they too tried their best to win free, they were held fast. Even the warforged were unable to get loose. Each of the constructs had multiple tentacles holding him by the arms and legs, and around the chest and waist, their sheer number negating the constructs’ strength. And then, slowly, inexorably, the tentacles began to retract into the central mass, pulling its victims toward it.

  Elidyr laughed and clapped his hands like a delighted child.

  “I wasn’t certain that was going to work. I’m so glad it did!”

  Those Outguard members who’d remained on their horses-Vaddon and Ksana included-had been pulled off by the tentacles, and a number of riderless mounts stood in the street. Several of the steeds fled, terrified by the inhuman monstrosity in their midst, but these were warhorses, trained to stand steady in the face of battle, and many of them remained where they were. Elidyr walked up to the mount Vaddon had been using and swung into the saddle with an easy grace that Lirra had never known him to possess before. It seemed the touch of the daelkyr lord had done more to transform his body than she’d thought. The horse-a black gelding-was less than thrilled to have this human and his three symbionts sitting upon his back, but his training held and he did not rear or buck.

  “Farewell, everyone,” Elidyr said. “I’d love to stay and see what happens to you when you’re pulled into the main mass, but I’ve dawdled here long enough, and it really is time for me to take my leave.” He pulled on his mount’s reins and the horse turned toward Sinnoch. “Are you ready, my friend? And do you have what we need?”

  “I am, and I do.” The dolgaunt reached behind him to pat a pack tied to the back of his saddle, and with a sinking feeling, Lirra realized what it contained-the Overmantle.

  “Excellent! Then we can be off.” Elidyr turned away from Sinnoch. “Choose a horse and hop on, Rhedyn. It’s time to leave.”

  At first Lirra didn’t understand what her uncle was talking about, but then she saw that the white tentacles had left Rhedyn alone just as they had Sinnoch. Rhedyn stood in the street, looking like a living shadow, and as Lirra watched, the dark aspect faded until Rhedyn resembled a man standing in light shade, despite the fact the sun was shining down upon him. The implications struck her as hard as any blow from the hammer-fisted warforged ever could have. Rhedyn was in league with Elidyr and Sinnoch. Despite the evidence of her own eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. She told herself it was just more of Elidyr’s insane ramblings and couldn’t possibly be real.

  “Rhedyn!” Lirra called out. “You can’t go with them! You’re a member of the Outguard and a soldier of Karrnath! Stay with us, fight with us!” She wanted to say: Stay with me! but she couldn’t make herself speak the words.

  Rhedyn gave her a look that was impossible to read before turning away and walking to the nearest horse. He swung himself up into the saddle, took hold of the reins, and then, with a last look at Lirra, he turned the horse about, touched his heels to the horse’s sides, flicked the reins, and the animal began galloping down the street. Elidyr and Sinnoc
h followed close behind.

  Lirra watched them ride off, despair welling up inside her. But the feeling was quickly choked off by a rising tide of anger. She remembered his visit to her bedchamber on the night before the test of the Overmantle, remembered the things he’d said, the feelings he’d attempted to express … Nothing but lies.

  Fury roared through her like a firestorm, and she vowed that whatever else happened, she would not die this day, absorbed into a disgusting mass of flesh. If nothing else, she’d survive to make certain that Rhedyn paid for his betrayal of the Outguard-and for betraying her.

  The thing the white-eyes had merged into had continued pulling Lirra and the others toward it while Elidyr, Sinnoch, and Rhedyn rode off, and they were within three yards of the main mass. At this rate, Lirra judged they had a minute at most before they were pulled into the pile of flesh, and what would happen then? Would their own flesh and bones liquefy as they became part of the creature? Or would they merely suffocate as their air was cut off? The warforged would likely survive in either event, but the rest of them would not. Lirra thought furiously, determined not to die before she could have her vengeance. She found herself remembering a lesson her father had taught her long ago, when she was a child learning to spar with a wooden practice sword.

  “Every opponent has a weakness,” he’d told her. “The trick is figuring out what it is in time to do you any good.”

  Assuming this creature had a weakness, what could it possibly be? And how could they exploit it in the few seconds remaining to them? Lirra rapidly went over what she knew about the monstrous conglomerate. It was comprised of the bodies of people whom Elidyr had reshaped into mindless, supernaturally strong servants. He’d transformed them using powers granted to him by a daelkyr lord, powers that originated in Xoriat, the Realm of Madness. She didn’t know if those powers were, strickly speaking, evil, at least in a metaphysical sense, but they seemed close enough to her. And if they were based in evil, that meant …