Tim Waggoner - Lady Ruin

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 fierceness. 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.