by Tim Waggoner
Vaddon continued toward Lirra, armored feet clanking on the chamber’s stone floor. But when he was within three yards of her, the tentacle whip’s barbed tip suddenly swung in Vaddon’s direction, almost as if the aberration could sense the soldier, and it lashed out at him. Vaddon instinctively dodged to the right, and if he hadn’t been wearing armor, he might’ve been able to move swiftly enough to avoid the tentacle whip’s strike. As it was, the symbiont’s barbed tip grazed his left cheek, and Vaddon hissed in pain. The wound itself was minor, but that wasn’t what concerned Vaddon. The big question was how much venom did the barb manage to inject into his body during its glancing blow? The general received his answer a split second later when a fiery sensation began spreading through his cheek, along his jawline, and down into his neck. A wave of weakness passed through him, and his sword slipped from his gauntleted hand as he fell to one knee. He felt the venom’s fiery touch move swiftly down into his left arm, and vertigo struck him, nearly causing him to collapse. But Vaddon hadn’t survived hundreds of battles by giving up easily, and he fought to keep his head clear. His daughter still needed him, and he’d be damned to every hell that had ever existed before he failed her.
Though it took every ounce of willpower he possessed and then some, Vaddon picked up his sword, hauled his body to a standing position, and started toward Lirra once more, doing his best to ignore the poison fire spreading throughout his body.
Lirra felt pressure in her head as if there was something inside—something big—trying to claw its way deeper into her brain. Accompanying the pressure came the whispering of a sly, sinister voice that sounded too much like her own, though she knew it wasn’t. With each word the thought-voice spoke, the pressure inside her head mounted.
Submit … give yourself over to me … let us be One …
She tried to ignore the voice as she concentrated on moving her sword arm so she could cut herself free of the damned tentacle whip. But no matter how hard she fought against the symbiont’s influence, she could not make her arm budge even a fraction of an inch more toward the creature. Its will to survive was simply too strong. As soon as the thought passed through her mind, she felt an answering surge of elation that she knew didn’t originate in her own heart. It was the whip, excited that it had managed to dominate her to such an extent, and eager to assert its control over her further.
You might be able to prevent me from harming you, Lirra thought, but that doesn’t mean you own me.
The thought-voice whispered in her mind. We’ll see about that.
Lirra was about to redouble her efforts to cut the symbiont off of her when she caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see her father coming toward her, expression grim, sword held tight. She understood instantly that he thought he was coming to her rescue, and while she loved him for it, she inwardly cursed him too. The whip was too wild, too dangerous, and she couldn’t—
She watched helplessly as the tentacle whip lashed out, its barbed tip grazing Vaddon’s cheek. The wound swelled red as the symbiont’s poison went to work, and her father staggered and fell to one knee. She sensed the whip’s elation at having brought down an enemy, and she knew it intended to strike again, this time to deliver a full dose of poison, killing Vaddon.
NO! she shouted in her mind, and the tentacle whip froze, poised for a second strike but unable to complete it. The terrible pressure assaulting her mind eased slightly, and Lirra managed a smile. Now who owns whom? she thought. She felt the whip’s answering rage as if the emotion were her own, so intense that it almost knocked her off her feet, but she rode it out and the feeling subsided to the point where it became manageable. She wanted to go to her father’s aid, but she knew she couldn’t risk bringing the tentacle whip any closer to him. She might’ve been able to stop it from attacking once, but that didn’t mean she’d be able to do so a second time. Better to keep the symbiont away from everyone while she fought to get rid of it.
She glanced at Vaddon then and saw he’d managed to stand and was coming toward her once more. The entire left side of his face was swollen, as was a good portion of his neck, and his gaze was bright and feverish. But still he continued forward. If she could just keep him away …
As if in response to her thought, the tentacle whip lashed out, grabbed hold of Vaddon’s right ankle, and yanked the man’s leg out from under him. The general flew backward and cracked his unprotected head on the chamber’s stone floor. He moaned once and then lay still. Before Lirra could react, the whip released its grip on Vaddon’s ankle and coiled about her arm. She sensed a certain amount of dark amusement coming from the symbiont, but there was something else, too, a more subdued, almost compliant thought that seemed to say, See? I can be useful when I want to.
Lirra feared the worst for her father. Tentacle whip venom was raging through his system, and he’d just received a severe blow to the head. Either condition alone might prove fatal, but together …
Evidently Ksana was thinking along the same lines, for the cleric dropped her halberd and ran to Vaddon’s side. The halfelf laid a hand upon the general’s swollen cheek, closed her eyes, and began softly murmuring prayers to her goddess. Confident her father was in good hands, Lirra looked away and turned her attention toward Elidyr and Sinnoch. She was just in time to witness the closing of the spatial portal above the Overmantle. When the rift between realms was sealed, the malignant presence that had filled the chamber vanished, and the atmosphere immediately felt less oppressive, almost like the aftermath of a terrible thunderstorm.
Lirra was thrilled. Her uncle had succeeded in closing the portal and preventing whatever had been on the other side from coming through. It was over.
She sensed an amused thought from the tentacle whip: Not quite. Watch.
Elidyr began laughing, but it wasn’t the relieved laughter of a man who’d just survived a close call with death—or worse. This was the cackling mad laughter of an unhinged mind. As she watched, Elidyr raised his arms above his head and spoke two simple words.
“To me!”
A trio of distorted shapes moved swiftly forth from the shadows, and Lirra recognized the other symbionts that had been used in the failed experiment. All three of them—the crawling gauntlet, the tongueworm, and the stormstalk—rushed toward the artificer with frightening speed and launched themselves at him. If Elidyr felt any pain as the symbionts grafted themselves to his flesh, he didn’t show it. He merely stood, arms raised, a beatific look in his eyes as if he were a religious supplicant receiving his god’s blessing. Within seconds the aberrations had fused with Elidyr’s body, and the artificer lowered his hands and looked at Sinnoch.
“What do you think?” Elidyr asked.
Sinnoch grinned. “It suits you, my friend.”
Elidyr’s answering smile was lopsided and his eyes blazed fiercly. “My thoughts precisely.”
It shouldn’t have been possible for her uncle to have three symbionts attached to his body. There shouldn’t have been enough blood in him to sustain more than one aberration, and the strain on his system of hosting three should’ve killed him. But he looked perfectly healthy. Almost too much so, as if bonding with the symbionts had increased the strength of his life-force. Perhaps it had something to do with the power generated by the Overmantle—or with the chaos energy that had filtered through the portal to Xoriat. Whichever the case, not only did Elidyr appear to be suffering no ill effects from fusing with the symbionts, he appeared stronger than ever. And from the wild, mad expression on his face, he had become completely insane.
If bonding with the symbionts had driven him to lunacy, then he was a greater threat than all of the aberrations combined. For he still stood before the Overmantle, and though it was now shut down, he might well choose to reactivate it again—and reopen the portal to Xoriat. And this time, whatever was on the other side might well make it all the way through.
Lirra glanced at Ksana and saw the cleric was still tending to her injured fat
her. With the other soldiers dead, that left only Rhedyn to help Lirra deal with her uncle. She’d lost track of Rhedyn in all the confusion, but she found him standing next to the body of the woman he’d slain. He stood watching Elidyr, sword held at his side, the dark aspect of his shadow sibling full upon him, so that he appeared to be standing in deep shadow. Lirra had a difficult time making out his facial features, but his expression seemed to be one of wonder and … she wasn’t certain, but she thought it might be satisfaction. What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t just be standing there! He was a soldier; he should be fighting!
A thought whispered through her mind. He’s one of us …
I’m not US! Lirra thought, but in response the tentacle whip only coiled more tightly around her forearm.
“Rhedyn!” she shouted. “Help me!”
He didn’t react at first, and Lirra feared that something had happened to his mind during the time the Xoriat portal had been open. But then he turned to her and slowly smiled behind the shadow that cloaked him. The sight of that smile hit Lirra like a blow to the gut. Rhedyn—her Rhedyn—had gone mad just like Elidyr. Following on the heels of that thought was a worse one: What if he’d been mad for some time now, perhaps from the moment he’d fused with his shadow sibling? She remembered the words he’d spoken during his visit to her room last night.
I cannot—will not—give up my shadow sibling. As an impure prince, I can serve Karrnath in ways others could never hope to. And as long as I remain bound to a symbiont, I will repulse you physically. But if you were to accept a symbiont …
Of course Rhedyn was smiling, for he’d gotten his wish. She was bound to a symbiont. At least for the moment. But as long as that was the case, she might as well make some use of the damned thing.
She turned away from Rhedyn and started toward Elidyr.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
It looks like I’m not the only one who’s made a new friend today,” Elidyr said, eyeing the tentacle whip coiled about her arm. He nodded approvingly. “It suits you, Lirra.”
She felt an intense surge of rage at her uncle’s words. He’d become a loathsome monstrosity, as much an aberration as the dolgaunt standing next to him, an unclean, unnatural thing that needed to be removed from the world, and she wanted nothing more than to strike him down. Her fingers tightened on her sword, and she felt the coils of the tentacle whip go slack around her forearm as it prepared to attack.
It was the whip’s reaction that helped her understand why she felt such rage. The whip was using the repugnance she felt upon seeing her uncle’s transformation to goad her into attacking him. She hadn’t realized the creature could be that subtle. There was no way she was going to allow the tentacle whip to control her, and so she stopped three feet from her uncle and lowered her sword to her side.
She gritted her teeth against the rage still roiling inside her and forced herself to speak calmly. “I don’t know what went wrong with the experiment, Uncle, but you have to let us help you. You can’t survive long with three symbionts attached to your body.”
Elidyr grinned at Lirra as if what she’d said was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. But it wasn’t her uncle who responded to her words: It was Sinnoch.
“If your uncle was an ordinary human, you’d be correct,” the dolgaunt said. “But he’s become something more, something better. He’s far more than a mere human now.” The dolgaunt paused, and though it didn’t have eyebrows exactly, Lirra had the impression the creature frowned. “Though to be honest, I’m not certain precisely what he is, but I imagine we’ll have a great deal of fun trying to find out. Don’t you?”
You should kill him too, whispered a voice in her mind, and she’d have been hard-pressed to say whether the thought originated with her or the symbiont. Again she felt the rage, so strong this time that it nearly overwhelmed her, but she fought it down and managed to stay in control, if only just.
“Be silent, dolgaunt,” she said. “I’m not talking to you; I’m talking to my uncle.”
Sinnoch’s inhuman mouth twisted into an amused smile, but from the way the tendrils on top of his head writhed, Lirra knew the dolgaunt was irritated with her. She’d never been able to read the aberration’s body language before, and she realized that becoming bonded with the tentacle whip had somehow granted her a deeper understanding of the denizens of Xoriat. But sympathy did not accompany that understanding. She still wanted to ram her sword blade into the dolgaunt’s cadaverous chest and thrust the needle-sharp tip through his heart—assuming the foul thing even had a heart. But she resisted. Just because she was bound to a symbiont didn’t make her a creature like Sinnoch. Not even close. As satisfying as it would be to destroy the dolgaunt—and the way she felt right now, it would be most satisfying indeed—Lirra was a highly trained soldier, and she only killed when there was no other course of action available to her.
A sullen thought drifted through her mind: Spoilsport.
“Nothing went wrong today, child,” Elidyr said. “Everything went very, very right.” He flexed the fingers of his crawling gauntlet, and the stormstalk draped around his shoulders swayed back and forth, keeping Lirra fixed with its single overlarge eye. “I’ve been cooped up in this damned lodge too long. I’d like to take a stroll, get out and stretch my legs a bit. I see things so very differently than I did before. I wonder what the world will look like through these new eyes of mine.” He grinned. “I can’t wait to find out.” He turned toward Sinnoch. “Look after the Overmantle for me, will you? I’ll be back for it.”
The dolgaunt inclined his head. “As you wish.”
Elidyr then looked over to where Ksana was ministering to his fallen brother. “I’d say farewell to Vaddon, but it appears as if he’s somewhat preoccupied at the moment.” He turned back to Lirra, still grinning. “Be a good girl and tell your father that while I’ve enjoyed working together, I think it’s time I went into business for myself. And as for you, my dear, have fun with your new pet. I think the two of you are going to get along magnificently.”
And with that, Elidyr began walking toward the chamber’s exit.
Lirra started after him. “I can’t let you go, Uncle. You’re not in your right mind, and in your condition, you’re a danger to yourself and others.”
Elidyr stopped and turned around to face her. His grin was even wider than before, and his gaze shone bright with madness.
“My sweet child, you have no idea what a danger I truly am.”
Elidyr made no movement, but the stormstalk perched on his shoulders suddenly stiffened and a bolt of lightning blasted forth from its eye. Crackling energy struck Lirra full on the chest. She staggered backward as pain coursed through her body and her muscles went rigid. Her vision grayed at the edges and she thought she would lose consciousness, but as quickly as it came, the pain receded, her muscles unlocked, and her vision cleared.
You’re stronger now, a voice whispered inside her. We’re stronger …
Without thinking, she flicked her left arm forward, and the tentacle whip uncoiled, sending its barbed tip flying toward Elidyr’s face. Moving with inhuman speed, the artificer raised his crawling gauntlet in time to intercept the whip. Crustacean-like claws closed around the whip’s barb, and Elidyr gave a vicious yank. The artificer was now far stronger than he had been before becoming fused with his symbionts and receiving the touch of a daelkyr lord, and Lirra—unable to resist his strength—was pulled stumbling toward Elidyr. Overwhelming fury surged through her. She was a Karrnathi warrior, and she refused to be defeated!
She still retained a grip on her sword, and she brought it swinging around in a wide arc toward the stormstalk, determined to slice through the grotesque thing and, if possible, through her uncle’s neck as well. Part of her was horrified at the realization that she was ready to kill Elidyr when only a moment before she’d wanted to help him. But that part was as nothing compared to the white-hot battle-fury raging inside her, and she gave herself over to it completely,
unable to resist.
Elidyr opened his mouth wide and the tongueworm shot forth. It wrapped around Lirra’s wrist and pushed her sword arm upward, deflecting her strike. The blade whistled through the air above Elidyr’s head, doing no damage to either the stormstalk or its master. She fought to bring her sword back in a reverse strike, but the tongueworm held her arm fast, preventing her.
Two can play at this game, she thought.
She gave a mental command to the tentacle whip, and though its barbed tip was still held tightly in Elidyr’s gauntlet, it had plenty of length left to fight with. Its coils extended upward toward the artificer’s head, looped around his neck, and began to squeeze. However strong Elidyr had become and whatever fell powers he now possessed, he still needed to breathe.
Elidyr had been grinning the entire time they fought, and though his face began to turn a dark red as the tentacle whip strangled him, his grin didn’t waver. The stormstalk swiveled its head toward the whip and unleashed another bolt of lightning, but though Lirra felt the same agony course through her body as before as the energy passed through the whip and into her, she was ready for the pain now, and it came and went quickly. Let the damned stalk loose bolt after bolt of energy at her. She’d endure the pain and stand strong while Elidyr’s lungs cried out for air. It would only take a few moments before he lost consciousness, and a few more after that for him to die. And then she, with but a single symbiont, would’ve defeated an opponent who wielded three! A glorious victory indeed!
No! We can’t kill him! she thought.
Watch us! came the reply, and she couldn’t tell if the thought was the whip’s, hers, or if it belonged to them both.
The coils tightened further around Elidyr’s neck, and the artificer’s face edged toward deep purple. Still grinning, he raised his left hand, the one without the gauntlet, and extended it palm forward toward Lirra. The air around the artificer’s hand wavered, like heat distortion rising off the ground in the summertime. A sudden wave of vertigo gripped Lirra and her stomach twisted with nausea. Her vision blurred, sharpened, blurred again, and all the strength drained out of her body. Her muscles were weak as water, and she slumped to the floor, dropping her sword in the process. Whatever Elidyr was doing, it affected the tentacle whip as well. The symbiont’s coils loosened around Elidyr’s throat, and he released its barbed end from the grip of his crawling gauntlet. The whip hung slack from the artificer’s neck, and Elidyr reached up with both hands and easily removed the coils from around his neck and dropped them to the floor. The tongueworm then released its grip on Lirra’s wrist and retracted into Elidyr’s body. When the worm was once again concealed, the artificer gazed down at his niece.