Lady Ruin: An Eberron Novel

by Tim Waggoner

  A dozen dolgrims were caught in the line of fire, and Lirra could sense the chaos energy rolling over the creatures like a wall of flame. They staggered backward, swaying on legs suddenly grown too weak to support them, dropping their weapons and falling to the ground, where they lay twitching and mewling like newborn kittens. The Outguard defenders wasted no time wondering what had caused so many dolgrims to collapse all at once. They moved forward swiftly and killed the creatures while they were disabled. Not the most honorable of combat techniques, perhaps, but imminently practical given their current situation.

  Lirra was able to release two more blasts of chaos energy, each less potent than the first, before she could do no more. The power simply wasn’t there for her to draw on anymore. Still, it did its work. By the time she was finished, thirty or more dolgrims had been slain, and twice that number had fled in terror of the wild-eyed woman who commanded the power of Xoriat itself. Those few dolgrims who had the discipline—or perhaps simply the bad judgment—to stay and fight were easily dealt with by the Outguard.

  One dolgrim remained alive, however. While the others were being killed by her companions, she selected one at random—one that had not been reshaped by Elidyr’s flesh-molding power—and kneeled down next to it. The creature stank, just like Ranja had said earlier. Rotten mushrooms and snail slime. The dolgrim lay on the forest floor, arms and legs quivering as it struggled to overcome the debilitating effects of the chaos energy and get back on its feet, whether to fight or, more likely, to flee. Lirra sheathed her sword and kneeled by the dolgrim’s side. She commanded the tentacle whip to lower its barbed tip to within an inch of the creature’s right eye, and as an extra touch, she told the whip to allow a bead of poison to form on the tip. The dolgrim looked up at the barb with wide, terrified eyes, its breathing rapid and shallow.

  Doing her best to ignore the creature’s stench, Lirra leaned her head close to its ear.

  “Can you talk?” she asked.

  The dolgrim opened its upper mouth once, swallowed, and then tried again.

  “Y-yessss …” it hissed.

  “Good. Now listen to me very carefully. All of your friends are dead, dying, or gone. You are alone. The only chance you have of surviving is if you answer my questions quickly and completely. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  The creature’s speech sounded clearer, and Lirra knew she had to hurry before the effects of the chaos energy wore off.

  “A man named Elidyr sent you to kill us. Tell me how to find him and you get to live.”

  The creature opened its upper mouth to reply, but it lower one spoke first.

  “Don’t listen to her! She’ll just kill us when we tell her what she wants!”

  “If you don’t answer, you will definitely die,” she said, making sure to keep her tone icy cold. “Answering me is the only chance for survival you have. And the longer you take to start talking, the slimmer that chance gets.”

  The lips of both mouths moved silently then, and Lirra had the impression that an internal debate was taking place within the dolgrim’s mind. She’d recently come to learn what that was like, and she waited for the two minds inside the creature to reach a decision.

  “Two miles northwest is a clearing with a rocky hill in the center. At the base is an entrance to a series of caves. Elidyr is inside.”

  Lirra started to give the dolgrim her thanks, but before she could speak, the tentacle whip pulled back its barb to strike.

  “No!”

  Lirra reached out with her right hand and grabbed hold of the tentacle whip before it could sink its barb into the dolgrim’s eye.

  “I gave him my word that he could go free if he cooperated!”

  So he can run and tell Elidyr that we’re coming? the thought-voice asked.

  Lirra hated to admit it, but the whip had a point. Can you give him a low dose of poison? Enough to render him unconscious but leave him alive?

  The symbiont seemed to consider for a moment, and then Lirra felt its reluctant agreement.

  She spoke aloud to the dolgrim.

  “I’m going to put you to sleep for a time.” She took in the surrounding area, noting all the dead, both dolgrims and soldiers. The bodies of those dolgrims who Elidyr had transformed were starting to liquefy, just as the creature formed from the combined white-eyes had back in Geirrid. The bodies of the normal dolgrims, however, remained intact. “I’ll move you to a safer location so that any predators drawn to this place will not find you. With any luck, you’ll awaken safe and sound.”

  The dolgrim’s lower mouth said, “See? I told you she was going to kill us!”

  Don’t betray me on this, Lirra thought to the tentacle whip, or I’ll start keeping you on an even tighter leash! And don’t sting him in the eye!

  The whip did as she ordered, injecting its poison into one of the dolgrim’s spindly arms. The creature stiffened, then his eyes closed and he fell limp. Lirra placed her fingers on one of the dolgrim’s wrists, and she felt a pulse. A strange pulse, actually, since it seemed to have dual beats. Then she remembered: two hearts. She released the dolgrim’s wrist and stood.

  Ranja, in human form once more, came over to stand beside her, and Osten hurried to join them. The shifter looked down at the unconscious dolgrim.

  “Nicely handled,” Ranja said. “You know, I think you’d do well in my profession.”

  Osten frowned. “What does questioning a dolgrim have to do with being a scout?”

  Lirra fought to keep a smile from her face as Ranja sidled up next to the young warrior.

  “If you’re truly interested, perhaps the two of us can have a private conversation about it later,” she suggested.

  Osten’s frown deepened into a scowl and he stepped away from the shifter. Ranja seemed amused, but she didn’t tease Osten any further.

  Vaddon and Ksana came over then, the two warforged following after. All of them were splattered with foul-smelling dolgrim blood—Longstrider and Shatterfist, especially—but none appeared to be seriously wounded.

  “Did you learn anything useful?” Vaddon asked, and Lirra told him what the dolgrim had said. She also told him of her mounting suspicions about the creatures Elidyr reshaped for his own purposes.

  “It’s as if his power to rework flesh has its limits,” she said. “I wonder if his creatures would decay on their own, given enough time.”

  “Let us hope that’s the case,” Vaddon said. “If the distorted monsters my brother can now create have a limited lifespan, that’s a huge advantage in our favor. But enough talk. We need to get moving. Our horses are gone, so we’ll have to proceed the rest of the way on foot.”

  “We can’t leave yet!” Ksana protested. “I need to tend to our injured first, and we can’t leave the dead unburied. Not only would it be dishonorable and an affront to the gods, our dead deserve better than for us to leave them for the scavengers to feast upon!”

  “Honestly,” Ranja said, “as bad as the dolgrims smell, I doubt even the hungriest of scavengers would come near this place.”

  Lirra gave the shifter a look that said, you aren’t helping. Then she turned to the cleric. “I would never make light of your beliefs, Ksana. You know that. And I would never wish to dishonor fallen comrades, whether I served with them for years or, in the case of our new garrison recruits, only a short time. But even as we speak, Elidyr is working to repair the Overmantle. For all we know, he may have already finished. We have to reach him before he can activate it again and reopen the portal to Xoriat. And that means we can’t afford to waste any more time.”

  Ksana’s normally placid face clouded over with anger, and she gestured sharply toward a mass of dead soldiers. “You consider them a waste of time? Has your spirit become so poisoned by the corruption you carry with you that you’ve lost all common decency?”

  Ksana’s words stung, but Lirra did her best not to let her feelings show. She started to answer, but Vaddon put a hand on her shoulder—it was the fi
rst time he’d touched her since she’d joined with the tentacle whip—to gently silence her.

  “Lirra’s right,” he said, “and you know it. Sometimes hard choices have to be made on the field of battle. This isn’t the first time we’ve faced them. We’ll leave the dead for now, and if possible, we shall return to give them a proper burial. As for the wounded, quickly tend to those who cannot travel. The rest you can heal as we march.”

  Ksana looked as if she might argue, but then she let out a sigh, nodded, and left to inspect the wounded. Vaddon raised his voice so that the rest of the surviving members of the Outguard could hear him.

  “We march in five minutes, people! Make ready!”

  Vaddon then turned back to Lirra. “Good enough?” he asked.

  “I suppose it’ll have to be.”

  He nodded then walked off to make sure his soldiers followed his orders. She turned to the two warforged and gestured to the dolgrim she’d questioned.

  “Longstrider, carry him a safe distance away from this place and tuck him into a tree. Not too high, mind you. Shatterfist, you stay here and stand guard while we regroup and prepare to move out.”

  Longstrider nodded, scooped up the dolgrim as if he weighed nothing, and strode off into the forest. Shatterfirst looked around at the carnage that surrounded them.

  “As I understand it, humans sometimes use humor to lighten the mood after a tragic event has occurred. Perhaps I could—”

  Lirra, Ranja, and Osten turned to the construct and shouted in unison.

  “No!”

  The warforged crossed his stone and metal arms over his chest. “Fine,” he huffed. “Look, this is me, standing guard.”

  A few moments later Longstrider returned, and the Outguard was ready to march. From a group of around sixty soldiers, they were down to just over twenty. A hard loss, especially after only a single encounter with Elidyr’s forces. Lirra wondered what else her uncle had in store for them. She supposed they would soon find out.

  Vaddon gave the command, and the Outguard started marching.

  CHAPTER

  SIXTEEN

  They found the cave entrance precisely where the dolgrim said they would. The hill was barren, rocky, and rather lopsided, as if somewhere in the distant past a mountain had tried to thrust its way up through the earth and had barely gotten started before giving up.

  The entrance to the caves wasn’t hard to spot. It lay at the southern base, and the opening was large enough for the soldiers to fit through one at a time, warforged included, though just barely in the constructs’ case. Lirra assumed the tunnels would be narrow, though passable, since Elidyr, Sinnoch, and Rhedyn had been able to make their way through. Lirra felt a rush of anger at the thought of seeing Rhedyn again. Right then she wanted nothing more than to wrap her hands around his traitorous neck and—

  That’s right, get good and mad. We’ll be able to use your anger when it’s time to shed blood again …

  Hearing the thought-voice’s words, Lirra forced herself to calm down. The last thing she wanted to do right now was give her symbiont a stronger grip on her mind, and if she allowed herself to be carried away by anger, that’s exactly what would happen.

  “Here you go,” Ranja said. “As promised. Now that I’ve led you to Elidyr’s lair, my job’s finished, and since there’s an excellent chance that none of you will survive to leave the caves, I’d appreciate it if you could pay me my fee in full before you enter.”

  Osten took a step toward the shifter, his hand falling to the pommel of his sword.

  “Why you mercenary little—”

  Lirra shushed Osten and laid a hand on his arm to keep him from moving any closer to Ranja. But the shifter took a step toward Osten, her features becoming a touch more feral.

  “I was hired to do a job and I did it,” she said. “There’s no shame in that, nor is there any in my wanting to be paid for my contribution.”

  Vaddon scowled, but he reached inside his uniform and withdrew a purse full of silver from a pocket. He tossed it to Ranja, and the shifter woman caught it easily and made it disappear into one of her own pockets. She then flashed Vaddon a smile.

  “Pleasure doing business with you, General.”

  “So what will you do now?” Osten asked. “Head back to Geirrid while we risk our lives to stop Elidyr?”

  “I think I’ll stick around for a bit longer, just to see how things turn out,” Ranja said. She turned to Vaddon. “I assume you’re going to station some people outside the entrance to guard the backs of those going in. I’ll remain out here with them, if you don’t mind.”

  “Suit yourself,” Vaddon said. “But don’t think you’re going to get paid any more for staying.”

  “Of course not, General. I’m well satisfied with what I’ve acquired.” Ranja looked at Lirra and gave her a quick smile.

  Lirra understood. The shifter spy had gained all the knowledge she needed, and if she couldn’t find a way to blackmail Bergerron, she’d simply go ahead with her original plan and deliver the information to Raskogr. Either way, more silver lay in her future. Before she’d joined with her symbiont, Lirra would’ve reacted to the shifter’s mercenary nature much the same way Osten had—with hostility and derision. After all, Lirra was a Karrnathi soldier, and she performed her duties out of loyalty to her country and a desire to serve its people, not in hopes of lining her own pockets. But now she couldn’t find it in herself to think badly of Ranja. As much as Lirra had been raised by her father, and later trained at the Rekkenmark Academy, to view the world in simplistic black-and-white terms, in the last few days she’d come to realize that, in truth, existence all too often consisted of varying shades of gray. Lirra knew she and the others wouldn’t have gotten this far without Ranja’s help, and she was grateful for the shifter’s aid. And if this was where they parted company, then so be it.

  Lirra gave Ranja a nod before turning to her father.

  “So what’s the plan?” she asked.

  Vaddon raised an eyebrow, and Lirra smiled. “You are in command of this mission,” she reminded him.

  Vaddon selected a half-dozen men and women to stand guard outside the cave. Lirra noted that he picked those who had been most seriously wounded during the battle with the dolgrims, and she could well guess why. While Ksana had used her healing powers to repair the soldiers’ injuries, they were still somewhat weak. Better they guarded the others’ rear flank than enter the caves to face whatever threats might lie within.

  “The rest of us will go inside,” Vaddon said. “Lirra, you will lead the way and Osten shall accompany you. Ksana and I will come next, and the warforged shall follow us.” He turned to face the remainder of the Outguard. “The rest of you line up in pairs. If the tunnels are too narrow to permit us to walk two abreast, then we’ll go single file. Lanterns out, and keep your swords in hand at all times unless there’s not enough room to wield them efficiently, in which case, sheath them and switch to daggers. Any questions?”

  “I know I’m not going with you,” Ranja said, “but I have a question: What do you intend to do once you find Elidyr?”

  Lirra responded to the shifter’s query. “We’ll destroy the Overmantle and attempt to take Elidyr, Sinnoch, and Rhedyn into custody.”

  “And in the extremely likely event that they resist?” Ranja asked.

  Lirra’s mouth was set in a grim line as she answered. “If it comes down to that … we’ll do what has to be done.” She turned to look at Vaddon, and though she saw the same conflict she felt mirrored in her father’s eyes, the general nodded. Neither of them wanted to kill Elidyr, but if he gave them no choice …

  There was nothing more to be said after that. The Outguard lined up as Vaddon had ordered, and—with Lirra leading the way—they entered the caves.

  “They’re here,” Sinnoch said.

  Elidyr hadn’t moved from his sitting position since he’d begun work on the Overmantle. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t paused for food or drink. Now he look
ed up at the dolgaunt with tired eyes.

  “So soon? Time truly does fly when you’re enjoying yourself.”

  Rhedyn had been sitting with his back against the cave wall, dozing. But at the dolgaunt’s words he leaped to his feet. “Could it be the dolgrims returning?”

  “Doubtful,” Elidyr said as he touched an etheric-balancing rod to several individual crystals on the reconstructed Overmantle. “I didn’t expect the dolgrims to stop my brother and his soldiers, just slow them down a bit. It’ll take more than a handful of dolgrims, even augmented as they were, to put my brother and my niece in the ground.” He smiled to himself. “That’s a pleasure I’m reserving for myself.” Elidyr made one last adjustment with the rod, then leaned back to admire his work. “There! That should do it!” He paused. “I hope.”

  Rhedyn walked over to stand next to Elidyr, and Sinnoch glided over to join them.

  “What do you mean?” the young warrior asked.

  “I did the best I could, considering that I lacked the proper parts and equipment,” Elidyr said, a trifle defensively. “Not only was I forced to redesign the device, I had to make certain … improvisations here and there.”

  “But it will work, yes?” Sinnoch asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Elidyr confirmed. “At least, it will activate. As to what it will precisely do …” Grinning, he touched a switch to bring the Overmantle to life.

  Rippling waves of energy poured out of the device, its power filling the entirety of Sinnoch’s cave.

  Lirra held her sword in her right hand, and she kept her left free to wield the tentacle whip, so she carried no lantern to light the way. That duty fell to Osten, who stood on her left, an everbright lantern held in his left hand, sword in his right. The lantern’s glow was eerie in the confined space of the tunnel, and the shadows it cast seemed to move with a life of their own. When they’d first entered the tunnel, it was so cramped they could barely walk in single file, but as the tunnel sloped downward, it opened up somewhat, and two people could walk side by side—though the squat, blocky Shatter-fist still needed to walk by himself in order to fit. There was enough room for them to keep their swords out, though if it became necessary to fight, there’d be precious little maneuvering room. They moved in silence, no one speaking, everyone careful to keep from brushing up against the tunnel walls more than necessary, and they were especially careful to keep their weapons away from the walls, lest the sound of steel scraping against stone gave their presence away.