Tim Waggoner - Lady Ruin

Many of these dolgrims were different from the standard breed, however, and Lirra knew that her uncle had added his own special touches to these before sending them out to attack. Some were covered with bony spikes, while others were encased in insect-like armor. Several possessed claws long and sharp as sabers, and a few had discolored foam-which Lirra had no doubt was poisonous-dripping from their twin mouths. As dangerous as the creatures had been before, they were doubly so now, thanks to Elidyr.

Vaddon shouted for the Outguard to attack, but he needn’t have bothered. The dolgrims were upon the soldiers so swiftly that it was all they could do to defend themselves. The Outguard’s horses had been trained for battle, and many held steady, but they hadn’t been trained to deal with unnatural creatures like dolgrims, and some whinnied, bucked, and threw their riders. Those horses tried to flee in panic and were quickly dispatched by the dolgrims, though a few of the creatures fell beneath pounding hooves before all the terrified horses had been dealt with.

The creatures seemed reluctant to attack Lirra. She swiftly dismounted and smacked her horse on the rear to send her on her way. The mare had been a thorn in Lirra’s side for the last two days, but she wished the horse good luck as she turned to face the nearest dolgrims, sword in hand, tentacle whip uncoiling of its own accord, eager to draw blood. Lirra didn’t chastise her symbiont for acting on its own. Now was precisely the time to allow the whip the freedom to act on its own.

The whip lashed its barbed tip toward a dolgrim-this one covered with spikes-and struck the creature in the eye. The dolgrim howled as poison flooded its system, and it dropped all four of its weapons as it staggered backward, dying. Meanwhile, Lirra swung her sword at a different dolgrim, this one gnashing foam-flecked teeth. It swung its morningstar at her, but she batted it aside easily and dodged to the side as the dolgrim followed up with a spear thrust to her abdomen. Before she’d bonded with the tentacle whip, the strike might have hit home, but she was faster now and more agile, and while the spear tip tore the cloth of her tunic, it didn’t draw blood. The dolgrim attempted to follow up its strike with a blow from its shield, but Lirra was ready for that. She commanded the tentacle whip to grab hold of the dolgrim’s shield hand by the wrist, and then she took the opportunity to jam her sword into one of the creature’s eyes.

The dolgrim shrieked in agony and fell away from her sword, blood spraying from the ruined socket where its eye had been. Lirra turned away from the creature before it could fall to the ground, selected another target, and set upon it.

Ranja assumed her full bestial aspect and leaped off her horse to engage the nearest dolgrim, while Osten remained on his mount, swinging his sword as the creatures came at him. But given the dolgrims’ diminutive stature, his sword missed as often as it hit, and the creatures were able to come in close and attack his horse, using their weapons or even their teeth to wound the animal. The steed screamed in pain and started to go down under the assault. Osten vaulted out of the saddle in time and managed to land on his feet just as a pair of dolgrims rushed at him. His horse fell to the ground and was overrun and slain by dolgrims who then quickly moved on to other targets.

Longstrider and Shatterfist lost no time in engaging the enemy. It was, after all, what they’d been created for. The two warforged waded into the sea of dolgrims with devasting effect, Longstrider’s spiked feet slashing flesh, snapping bones, and crushing bodies with his spinning kicks while Shatterfist’s hands reduced dolgrims to so much oily white pulp with one blow after another. The creatures shrieked as they died, their cries high-pitched and grating, sounding more like yowling cats than unnatural aberrations.

Vaddon and Ksana dismounted and smacked their horses on the flank, sending them pounding into the ranks of the dolgrims, in hopes that the animals might escape or, failing that, at least kill some of the creatures before dying themselves. The two fought back to back, Vaddon’s sword flashing almost faster than Lirra’s eyes could track, Ksana’s halberd matching him strike for strike. Despite Vaddon’s age, he fought like a warrior in his prime, his blows precise and economical, guided by years of battlefield experience. Ksana fought with a fluid grace. The cleric’s face was calm, almost beatific, as if she were praying instead of fighting for her life.

How long the Outguard fought against the dolgrims, Lirra couldn’t have said. She fell into a state that she was well familiar with from her time on the battlefield, a state wherein she ceased thinking consciously and gave herself over to her training and experience, letting her body do what it needed to in order to survive. The state was quite peaceful in its own way, and since her symbiont was happily occupied with slaughtering dolgrims, the pressure she felt from the aberration’s constant attempts to escape her control and subvert her mind had lessened. In many ways, this was the most relaxed she’d felt since bonding with the tentacle whip-and wasn’t that a sad commentary on her current state of existence?

But Lirra had fought in too many campaigns not to recognize when her side was outnumbered, and before long she realized that the Outguard was losing this battle. A number of their people had fallen to the dolgrims, though thank the Host those closest to her remained alive, if not altogether unscathed. Still, if they didn’t turn the tide soon, the dolgrims would overwhelm them and they would all perish here, their life’s blood soaking the soil and feeding the Nightwood’s trees.

Lirra heard the thought-voice whisper.

You know this is only a distraction, right?

The whip stabbed another dolgrim in the eye, and the creature screamed briefly before the symbiont’s poison stole away its life. Lirra followed the whip’s action by ramming her sword into a dolgrim’s upper mouth, angling upward to pierce the creature’s brain. As she yanked her blade free, she realized the tentacle whip was right. She’d been a fool. How many times on the battlefield had she commanded a squadron of soldiers to attack as a distraction or delaying tactic so that she could maneuver the main attack force into position? Elidyr might have trained as a scholar and artificer instead of a professional soldier, but he had a keen mind-albeit an insane one now-and would have had no trouble devloping the simple strategy of keeping his foes busy while he prepared to achieve his true aim: repairing the Overmantle and releasing the daelkyr lord from Xoriat. And Lirra and the others had fallen for his stratagem like green recruits fresh out of basic training.

Lirra continued killing dolgrims as she thought furiously. They couldn’t continue fighting a losing battle against these creatures, not if they were to have any hope of reaching Elidyr in time. But given the dolgrims’ superior numbers and their implacable savagery, there was no way the Outguard could prevail against them. Not unless something could be done to tip the scales in the Outguard’s favor. But what?

You’d need a way to attack a number of dolgrims all at once , the thought-voice suggested.

Lirra continued hacking away at one dolgrim after another, the tentacle whip sometimes helping by keeping the creature’s extra hands busy, other times simply by injecting poison into their bodies.

The thought-voice spoke again. You don’t just have my abilities to draw on. Remember what your uncle did back at the lodge .

She remembered Elidyr holding forth a hand, the air distorting around them as he unleashed a newfound power, a wave of vertigo passing over her, accompanied by weakness and nausea. She recalled her uncle’s words: Did you enjoy that? It’s a little taste of Xoriat chaos energy.