Lady Ruin: An Eberron Novel

by Tim Waggoner

  “Of that there is no question,” Vaddon said. “But as to whether or not we’ll be involved, that will be up to Lord Bergerron. I’ll report to him as soon as I am able, and we’ll see what, if anything, he’ll want us to do.” Vaddon paused. “Considering how this campaign turned out, Bergerron may well wish to place his trust in others to track down my brother.”

  Up to that point the two warforged had been silent, but suddenly Longstrider spoke up.

  “You did the best you could given the circumstances, General Vaddon. I doubt anyone could’ve done better, and I’ll make sure Lord Bergerron knows that.”

  Vaddon looked surprised, as if he’d never expected this sort of consideration from a being he viewed as nothing more than a mobile weapon. He inclined his head gratefully. “Thank you, Longstrider.”

  Osten turned to Lirra. “Sounds like we’ll be on the hunt again soon.”

  “We may be,” Vaddon said, “but my daughter won’t.” He turned to Lirra. “Your part in this is finished. I agreed that you could keep your symbiont temporarily only so you could use it to stop Elidyr. But my brother has escaped, and you must leave the search for him to others.”

  Lirra felt a surge of anger, and she struggled to contain it. “You saw what I can do with the tentacle whip, Father! If it hadn’t been for my symbiont, I wouldn’t have been able to destroy the Overmantle!”

  “Please understand, Lirra. I am not denying your contributions, but you must give up your symbiont. For your own good, if for no other reason. Yes, you are strong-willed, and you will hold out against the aberration’s influence as long as you can—longer, probably, than most people could—but inevitably it will corrupt your mind and spirit, just as it did to Rhedyn. You need to return with us to the garrison at Geirrid, and once there, Ksana can see to removing your symbiont.” Vaddon paused. “I’ve lost my brother to the insanity of chaos and corruption. I don’t want to lose you too.”

  Lirra felt her tentacle whip twitch, and she knew it wanted to bury its stinger into her father’s throat and start pumping venom into his body and not stop until he was dead a dozen times over. But she understood how Vaddon felt, and though she didn’t agree, she still loved him for it.

  “What if I refuse?” she asked.

  Sorrow filled Vaddon’s eyes for a moment, but then his expression became impassive as he worked to constrain his emotions, just as Lirra had seen him do on the battlefield a hundred times before. When he next spoke, it wasn’t as her father but as the general. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  “Really?” Despite her determination to keep her own emotions under control, she clenched her fists in anger.

  Ksana stepped between them, and Lirra couldn’t help thinking it was a place where the cleric had stood many times before. “Lirra, please—I understand how you feel, we both do, but you have to listen to reason …”

  Lirra’s anger built inside her, like a fire on the verge of blazing out of control, but she fought it. Part of her wanted nothing more than to strike out at Vaddon and Ksana, but these were two of the dearest people in the world to her and, however misguided their actions might be, she knew they did them out of love for her.

  “I’m going to find Elidyr on my own,” she said, voice tight with restrained anger. “I’m leaving now, Father, and if you want to prevent me from going, you’ll have to kill me.”

  Shatterfirst turned to Longstrider. “She’s joking, right?”

  Longstrider shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Ksana looked shocked by Lirra’s words, but Vaddon—no longer able to hold back his feelings—regarded her with a sorrow-filled gaze.

  “Very well, Lirra. You may go—for now,” Vaddon said. “But this isn’t the end of it. I intended to do everything I can to cure you. And if I can’t …”

  “What?” Lirra demanded. “You’ll have me imprisoned for the rest of my life, where I can’t be a danger to anyone? Or will you decide not to risk it and have me killed?”

  Vaddon didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. The sadness in his eyes spoke for him.

  A storm of conflicting emotions raged through Lirra. Though she felt anger and frustration over her father’s inability to see her point of view, she understood that he believed he was acting out of love for her. How could she fault him for that? He was a proud man, a strong warrior, and a capable leader—all in all, a noble son of Karrnath. But he was also a limited man in his way, unable to see beyond the world-view that had always shaped his life. Military discipline, rigid adherence to rules and regulations … Lirra had once been like that too, her father’s daughter in every way. But the last few days had taught her that sometimes the rules changed on you, whether you liked it or not—and sometimes you had to make your own rules. Perhaps symbionts normally corrupted their hosts, but it didn’t have to be that way for her. She would find a way to live with the aberration and make use of the abilities it granted her, whether or not her father believed it was possible. She wished Vaddon could understand, that they could somehow work together to track down Elidyr, but she knew it wasn’t possible, and the realization filled her with heart-rending sadness.

  Ksana must have realized much the same thing, for the cleric’s gaze was sorrowful as she stretched out her hand and gently touched Lirra on the forehead. “May the blessings of Dol Arrah be upon you, my child.”

  Lirra felt a wave of warmth pass through her body, and when it was done, her anger was gone. She nodded her gratitude to the cleric, and then, without looking at her father, she turned to go.

  “Hold up, Lirra,” Ranja said. “You’re not leaving without me!”

  Lirra turned to the shifter. “I appreciate everything you did to help us, but the path I’ve chosen is one I must walk alone.”

  “Spare me the dramatics. You choose your path, I choose mine. It just so happens that they’re the same.” She grinned. “For the time being, at least.”

  Lirra was going to argue with the shifter, but then she decided not to bother. If the woman wanted to follow her, she would find a way to do so. It was simpler to let her come along openly if she wished. Besides, given the way Lirra felt right then, she figured she could use the company.

  “Very well,” Lirra said.

  “I’m coming too,” Osten said.

  Lirra turned to him, surprised, but before she could say anything, Vaddon spoke.

  “You are a Karrnathi soldier, boy! What you’re talking about amounts to desertion!”

  Osten glared at Vaddon defiantly. “I can’t desert if I’m no longer a soldier. I resign my commission, General.”

  “Osten, please, think this through!” Lirra said. “I can’t let you do this!”

  “You’re going to need allies to deal with Elidyr,” the young warrior said. “You’re also going to need someone who understands what it’s like to carry a symbiont. Someone who can rein you in when it becomes necessary. Someone to be—”

  “My conscience,” Lirra said with a smile. “All right.” She turned to the warforged and smiled. “Well, what about you two?”

  The constructs’ hands were still dirty from grave digging, and Longstrider rubbed his together, almost self-consciously. “Shatterfist and I admire you greatly,” he said, “but we are loyal to Lord Bergerron, and as he assigned us to your father’s command, that is where we shall remain until ordered otherwise.”

  “Too bad,” Shatterfist said, giving the impression that he sighed without actually doing so. “I have so many more jokes that you haven’t heard yet.”

  “Maybe Dol Arrah is looking out for me,” Lirra murmured. She turned to Ranja and Osten. “All right then. Let’s get going.”

  “Where are we headed?” Ranja asked.

  Lirra felt an urge to glance back at her father one last time, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

  “Away from here,” Lirra said. Then she turned forward and started walking, Osten and Ranja at her side.

  Many miles away, Veit Bergerron
sat secure and comfortable in his study. The warlord wore a helmet that covered his entire head—a helmet that resembled the head of a warforged. And not just any warforged—Longstrider. The helmet’s eyes glowed with mystical power, a sign of their link to Longstrider. Anything the construct saw, Bergerron saw. And the warlord had seen plenty over the course of the last couple days. Now he watched as Lirra and her two companions walked out of the clearing and into the woods.

  Lirra Brochann was an intriguing woman. She had her father’s spirit, but she was less rigid and more adaptable to changing circumstances than Vaddon. Plus, she’d shown herself adept at handling the symbiont she’d become bonded to. Bergerron could make use of someone with her special capabilities. In fact, he could think of several ongoing projects that she’d be perfect for … projects that required a specific combination of finesse, discretion, and brutality.

  A shame about Rhedyn turning traitor though. Bergerron would’ve thought a member of his bloodline would’ve been stronger than that, but then again, Rhedyn was his youngest sister’s child, and she’d always been the weakest of his siblings. It was like they said, the apple never falls far from the tree. Ah well, he decided. Nothing to be done about it.

  All things considered, it looked like the symbiont project had turned out to be a success in the end. He smiled. For him, at least.

  Bergerron removed the helmet and placed it on the small table beside his chair. Then he sat back, interlocked his hands over his stomach, and began making plans.

  “Aren’t you the least bit upset that the Overmantle was destroyed?”

  Elidyr gave Rhedyn a sideways glance. “There’s no point in dwelling on the past. What’s done is done.”

  The two men had been walking through the Nightwood ever since leaving the caves. After escaping his coppery prison—a simple matter, really, given the number of magic devices he carried on his person—and slipping away while everyone’s eyes had been on Lirra and Ysgithyrwyn, Elidyr had led Rhedyn down a hidden passage that Sinnoch had showed him when the artificer had first visited the dolgaunt decades ago. The passage had led to a long winding tunnel that eventually let them out in a different section of the forest from the main cave entrance, far enough away that Elidyr was confident Vaddon and the others wouldn’t be able to find them—especially since Elidyr was using a concealer, one of his most useful artificer’s toys, to mask both his presence and Rhedyn’s. Too bad about Sinnoch though. The dolgaunt had been a good assistant, and Elidyr could truthfully say he wouldn’t be the man he was now if not for Sinnoch’s help.

  Rhedyn went on. “But we failed! Ysgithyrwyn remains in Xoriat, and …” The warrior trailed off and directed his gaze to the ground. His shadowy aspect was drawn around him like a dark cloak, as if to mirror his mood.

  “Go ahead and say it,” Elidyr prompted.

  Rhedyn looked up. “And Lirra didn’t join us.”

  “Perhaps not this time. But you know as well as I that she can only hold out so long against the corrupting influence of her symbiont. Eventually she will come to see things our way. It’s inevitable.”

  “So you say. But Lirra isn’t just anyone. She’s stronger than I am.” He paused. “Stronger than you, in many ways.”

  Elidyr bristled at the warrior’s words, but he chose not to remark upon them.

  “Do you know what your trouble is, my boy? You’re still in love with my niece. Love is an emotion for lesser minds. It’s childish and limited, and it impedes clear thinking. In time your symbiont would’ve helped you realize this. But as your emotional state is obviously causing you a certain amount of discomfort, I’ll be happy to speed up the process for you.”

  Before Rhedyn could react, Elidyr spun around and jammed his fingers into the warrior’s forehead, sinking through flesh and bone to penetrate the brain matter beneath. Grinning, Elidyr went to work on tidying up Rhedyn’s messy mind, and the warrior’s screams filled the Nightwood.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Tim Waggoner has published over seventy stories of fantasy and horror as well as hundreds of nonfiction articles. He currently teaches creative writing at Sinclair Community College in Dayton, Ohio, and in the MA in Writing Popular Fiction program at Seton Hill University.

  VOIDHARROW

  What has happened?” The Chained God’s form became a dark whirlwind of fury, scattering the Progenitor into crystalline mist. “You betrayed me!”

  “Betrayed,” the Progenitor whispered, its echoes surrounding him.

  “They would have freed me!”

  “They freed us,” the whispers replied. “Now we spread, your will and my substance. The Voidharrow.”

  The Chained God began to see. “Like a plague,” he said.

  “Plague … A plague …”

  “Your substance and my will.”

  “Our will.”

  The Chained God’s fury diminished, and he reached his thoughts to his old dominion where the Voidharrow had taken root. Yes, his will was present there—the merest echo of his thoughts and desires. It was more of a foothold in the universe he’d left behind than he’d ever had, though.

  “It is enough,” he said.

  “Like a plague.”

  “I hate to interrupt this touching reunion,” Sherinna’s cold voice said, “but you agreed to help me find my companions once we’d found yours.”

  Miri released her hold on Demas, and his hands dropped from her back. Miri’s eyes stung as she realized that his halfhearted embrace was the most demonstrative expression of his care for her that he’d ever given. And she’d had warmer embraces from innkeepers. Something in Sherinna’s tone irritated her just enough that she turned her frustration to the eladrin wizard.

  “Is that all it is to you?” she said. “An exchange of services?”

  “Of course,” Sherinna said. “What else would it be?”

  “Aren’t you worried about them?”

  “They can take care of themselves.”

  Miri couldn’t be sure, but she thought that Sherinna put the slightest emphasis on the word “they”—as if to suggest a contrast between her competent companions and Miri, who had reacted to being separated from her companions by cowering in a temple.

  “Don’t you care about them?” she asked. “Don’t you think they might be worried about you?”

  “As my original statement conveyed, I am eager to find them. Brendis and Nowhere are my associates, and very valuable ones. However, I assure you I won’t greet them with a tearful embrace when we find them.”

  “Your associates?” Miri could hardly believe what she was hearing.

  “Of course. We cooperate together to accomplish specific tasks for which our particular skills are well suited. Each of us brings different strengths to the group, and we cover each other’s weaknesses. It’s a lucrative line of work, and we divide the profits equally. It’s not so different from a trading venture. I can’t imagine what else I would call them.”

  “Friends? You trust your life to them.”

  Sherinna shrugged. “The same is true of partners in any sort of high-risk venture.”

  “And what would they call you?”

  “The same thing, I imagine.”

  “Even Nowhere?”

  For the first time, Sherinna’s perfect composure slipped, just a fraction. “What do you mean?”

  Miri smiled. “The look in his eyes when you’re around doesn’t say ‘associate’ to me.”

  Sherinna’s face froze, and Miri felt the temperature in the temple drop. “Enough,” she said, and Miri could see the eladrin’s breath in the suddenly frosty air. “I have no need to be chided by a half-elf child with stars in her teary eyes. Demascus promised to help me find my associates, so they and I can continue the task set before us. As soon as he has fulfilled his end of the bargain, I shall take my leave and hope that our paths never cross again.”

  A sudden flare of light and warmth drove away Sherinna’s chill as Demas stepped between the two women, his face stern. “Th
at’s enough, wizard. Miri may be young, but I have seen more proof of her valor and strength than I have yet seen from you. I am proud to call her a dear friend, and I can’t stand by and let you insult her.”

  Miri’s heart sang as the wizard’s frosty glare softened. “I am sorry,” Sherinna said. “Perhaps I am more concerned about my associates than I was willing to admit, and my concern has shortened my temper.”

  “Let us find them, then,” Demas said, “if only that we may part ways sooner.”

  Nowhere stepped out of the rowdy tavern, and a bottle smashed on the cobblestones by his feet. Without a glance back, he hurried out of the alley, smiling broadly. When he reached the thoroughfare where he was to meet Brendis, his eyes lit on the Sword of the Gods first. Even in the cosmopolitan streets of the City of Doors, Demascus stood out like a troll at a banquet. Sherinna and Miri walked beside him, one on each side.

  “Sherinna!” he called, and changed course to meet them. He saw Sherinna’s face brighten, then she brought it under control and shot Miri a dark glance. What was that about? Brendis emerged from an alley across the street, and Nowhere waved to catch his eye.

  “You found us,” he said as he drew near enough to be heard. The group met in front of a potter’s shop, but Miri stood a few paces away from the others, her gaze fixed on Demascus. “What happened?” he asked.

  “The portal was unstable,” Sherinna said. “As soon as the cultists had passed, it started to close. Before it did, though, the far end of the portal—the one in this city—started to slip. For each of you that went through, your destination fell back a significant distance. I suspect even Brendis never saw the cultists.”

  “That’s right,” the paladin said.

  “Sherinna and I used our magic to stabilize the portal and hold it open,” Demascus said. “Then we set about collecting our … associates”