Tim Waggoner - Lady Ruin

Osten glanced at Ranja again, and this time the shifter flashed him a smile that was a touch more feral than usual.

“See something you like, big boy? You know what they say about shifter women …”

Osten’s cheeks turned bright red. “No, I don’t, and I’d prefer you don’t enlighten me!” he snapped.

Ranja laughed and gave him a wink, but she said nothing more. Osten glared at her one more time before turning to Lirra.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

He didn’t need to make the question more specific. Lirra knew what he meant. He’d seen the tentacle whip kill the starling.

“The symbiont is getting a bit restless, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” She kept her tone light, in hopes of reassuring Osten, but in truth she was starting to become concerned. When the Outguard had first set out for the Nightwood, she’d thought the quiet routine of travel would relax her and help to keep her calm, which in turn would make it easier for her to control the tentacle whip. But instead the opposite had happened. The monotony of sitting in the saddle hour after hour had worn down her nerves to the point where she thought she might scream if something didn’t happen soon. When Vaddon had talked with her at the garrison barracks in Geirrid, he’d wondered aloud how much she’d been changed by hosting a symbiont. It seemed she’d been changed in ways both great and small. It was important she came to understand those changes, for the symbiont would attempt to exploit any weakness to slip past her guard and wrest control from her. And that was something she couldn’t let happen, not even for an instant. For if she did, there was a good chance her mind, her spirit, her very self , would be lost forever.

It hadn’t helped any that her mount, a piebald mare, was skittish about having a rider with a symbiont sitting in the saddle. Elidyr, Sinnoch, and Rhedyn had taken the mounts that had been enchanted to tolerate the presence of aberrations when they’d fled from Geirrid, and Lirra had been forced to make due with one of the horses from the garrison stable. Since Geirrid was surrounded by farms, the town had a number of animal handlers who could lay spells on cattle and horses to make them more tractable, and the garrison stable-master was skilled at such spellcraft. Unfortunately, he’d never had to enchant a horse to carry a rider fused with an aberration before, and while the mare tolerated Lirra’s presence, Lirra had to constantly pay attention to her mount to make sure she didn’t spook. Two days of babying her horse had worn Lirra down even further.

She sat up straight in the saddle and forced herself to take several deep, even breaths to calm herself before turning to Ranja.

“How are we faring?” she asked.

In response, Ranja raised her chin and sniffed the air. “Still on track. The scent’s good and strong, as well it should be considering that the three we’re tracking are all aberrations of one sort or another.” She wrinkled her nose. “They reek. Even if a strong rain came along, I doubt it would be enough to dampen their scent trail. How about you? Sense anything yet?”

Lirra concentrated. She felt a slight tingle at the base of her skull, and a cold flutter deep in her stomach, but neither sensation lasted more than an instant. “I’m not certain. Right now, I’d say your nose is a lot more reliable.”

Behind them, Shatterfist called out. “Speaking of noses, have you heard this one? One gnome walks up to another gnome and says, ‘My dog has no nose.’ The second gnome asks, ‘Then how does he smell?’ And the first gnome answers, ‘Terrible!’ ”

Lirra groaned. She almost wished some unspeakable horror would come shrieking out of the woods and tear her to shreds. At least then she wouldn’t have to listen to any more of Shatter-fist’s awful jokes. She wondered if she could convince her father that the warforged were still too close to Ranja and were interfering with her tracking. Perhaps then he’d move them farther back in the-

Tingling erupted at the base of her skull, and her gut twisted with sudden nausea as intense as when she’d sensed Elidyr’s white-eyes in Geirrid. More so, in fact, and she knew that couldn’t be good.

She raised her hand to call for a sudden halt. Vaddon saw her signal and commanded the Outguard to stop. He rode forward, Ksana riding at his side, until both of their mounts were at the front of the party with Lirra, Ranja, and Osten.

“What is it?” Vaddon asked without preamble.

“There’s something ahead of us,” Lirra said. “Something big. And it’s coming toward us. I think it’s an aberration of some sort … or maybe many aberrations massed together. I’m not sure. But whatever it is, it’s approaching fast.”

Vaddon looked at her skeptically for a moment, as if he didn’t trust her perceptions. He turned to Ksana, and the halfelf cleric raised her right hand, closed her eyes, and whispered a quick prayer to her goddess.

She opened her eyes. “I think Lirra is right. Whatever’s coming feels like those creatures of Elidyr’s we fought in Geirrid. Not evil in the supernatural sense, but definitely unnatural.”

Vaddon turned in his saddle to face the rest of the Outguard and made a series of silent hand gestures. The men and women under his command-including those who’d only just joined the Outguard-understood the code: We’re about to be attacked. Make ready . Crossbows were raised and swords were quietly drawn from their sheaths. Without a word, the soldiers moved their horses into a circular battle formation so that they’d be prepared for the attack no matter which direction it came from. Lirra and the others did likewise, Longstrider and Shatterfist stepping forward to join them at the head of the circle.

Ranja sniffed the air and made a face. “They definitely stink like the white-eyes and that dolgaunt friend of your uncle’s. Like rotten mushrooms covered in snail slime.” The shifter shuddered in disgust. “I can hear them too. Dozens of them, approaching from all sides.” She cocked her head as she listened more closely. “They aren’t big, but there’s a lot of them.”

Lirra could hear them now as well. Thudding footfalls on the forest floor, harsh, labored breathing, and muttering voices. She felt the tentacle whip’s coils slacken around her arm as the symbiont prepared for action, and the thought-voice whispered with glee: Finally!

Seconds later, the first wave of creatures came at them. Though she’d never seen them in the flesh before, Lirra recognized the things at once, thanks to the briefings Elidyr had given the Outguard on aberrations, the daelkyr, and their servants. These were dolgrims, creatures created by the daelkyr during their long-ago invasion of Khorvaire. To create a dolgrim, a daelkyr took two goblins and fused them into a single being using its flesh-molding powers. The resultant creature was a loathsome thing, three-and-a-half feet tall, squat and hunchbacked, with four spindly arms and no head. Its face was located on its chest, and it had a pair of toothsome mouths, one set atop the other. The skin was oily and white, though a number of these dolgrims bore garishly colored tattoos upon their flesh, as if to differentiate themselves from their brethren. They wore dark leather pants as their sole clothing, and carried four weapons, one for each hand: a morningstar, a spear, a light crossbow, and a shield, though some dolgrim wielded greatswords instead of spears. According to Elidyr, the creatures possessed two brains, though one personality was primarily dominant, and sometimes they held conversations with themselves, which explained the muttering Lirra had heard. While the creatures weren’t particularly smart, their dual brains did allow them to wield all four of their weapons in a coordinated attack, which made them foes to be respected.