Lady Ruin

Rhedyn smiled as he executed a half bow. “Of course. My apologies.” As he straightened, he glanced over at Osten and his expression became grim. “I suppose he’ll recover as well.”

Ksana gave Lirra a last look before turning to Rhedyn. “You don’t sound too happy about the prospect.”

“Osten failed to maintain control of his symbiont, and in so doing, he placed Lirra in great danger and forced the general to nearly take his life.”

“Try not to judge Osten so harshly,” Lirra said. “It’s not an easy task to resist a symbiont. You know that better than most.”

The shadowy sheen surrounding Rhedyn’s body darkened slightly, and the effect caused his blue eyes to appear dark gray. “It’s precisely because I know what that struggle is like that I can judge him. Osten didn’t merely hesitate due to the symbiont’s influence, nor did he simply fail to make it obey his commands. The tentacle whip took him over completely, both body and mind. Osten was the puppet, and the symbiont was the one pulling the strings.”

Rhedyn was a few years older than Lirra, close to thirty, and like her, he’d been trained at the Rekkenmark Academy. He was a nephew of Veit Bergerron and, since the warlord had produced no children of his own, that made him a potential heir to Bergerron’s lands. Despite his noble upbringing, Rhedyn didn’t act as if he were better than any other soldier, and he was as skilled as any warrior she’d ever served with.

She admired how well Rhedyn controlled his own symbiont-a shadow sibling-although she had to admit that she found herself at times uncomfortable around him since he’d joined with the creature.

“Osten’s failure is as much my fault as his,” Lirra said. “I’m the one that recommended he be considered for a symbiont.” She looked over at the young man once more, self-conscious to be talking about him as if he weren’t there. But Osten was still sleeping soundly.

“He was a good choice,” Ksana said. “He’s young and strong, and don’t forget, he volunteered willingly. And your uncle interviewed him thoroughly before approving him.”

“And it wasn’t as if he received just any symbiont,” Rhedyn added. “That tentacle whip is particularly strong and willful. It will make a powerful weapon … assuming a suitable host can be found.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Lirra conceded. “Thanks for stepping in to help. If you hadn’t stunned the tentacle whip …”

“I could hardly stand by and allow my captain to be killed, could I?” Rhedyn smiled. He started to reach out to touch her hand, but then paused, as if thinking better of it. Before he could withdraw his hand, she reached up and clasped it. His flesh felt cool and too smooth, like a serpent’s, and she had to force herself to keep holding on.

Rhedyn smiled gratefully and gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.

“What happened to the whip?” Lirra asked. “Was it damaged?”

“Not permanently. After I stunned it, your father’s sword blow weakened Osten to the point where the whip could fight no more on its own, and your uncle was able to detach it from Osten’s body. Elidyr and Sinnoch are making sure that the symbiont is returned to its cage as we speak.”

Lirra remembered capturing this particular aberration. She often led the hunting parties that journeyed into the Nightwood in search of symbionts. Osten’s tentacle whip had a presence that was stronger than most. It radiated a sly, baleful intelligence that Lirra found daunting, and in retrospect, she wasn’t all that surprised that the creature had proved too much for Osten to handle. She wasn’t certain Rhedyn would’ve been able to master it, and he had already proven that he could serve as a host to a symbiont without having his personality overwhelmed.

“I hate to do this to you,” Rhedyn said, “but the general sent me to bring you to the den. He wants to, and I quote, ‘Have a few words with that rock-headed daughter of mine.’ ” He turned to Ksana. “He’d like you to come too, cleric-and he’s summoned Elidyr as well. Not Sinnoch though. I don’t think your father cares for the dolgaunt.”

That was understatement. Vaddon absolutely loathed the creature.

Ksana glanced at Osten, who still slumbered fitfully.

“I’d prefer not to leave Osten’s side,” she said.

“The general was most insistent,” Rhedyn said.

Ksana sighed. “What else is new?”

“Osten’s well liked among the Outguard,” Lirra said. “I won’t have any trouble finding a volunteer to sit with him so you can attend the meeting.”

Lirra sat up and swung her legs over the side of the cot. The movement made her feel a touch lightheaded, but the sensation soon passed and she was able to stand without difficulty.

Her father had summoned them all. She knew it had to have something to do with the reason why he’d insisted on being present during Osten’s test, but she couldn’t imagine what it might be, and there was no way to guess. Her father was a man of many moods, and she’d never been able to predict them with any degree of accuracy. One thing was certain though. Whatever Vaddon wanted, Lirra doubted she was going to like it.

“Gently now. I don’t want this one hurt.”

Elidyr stood watching while a pair of soldiers attempted to wrestle the tentacle whip into its cage. The soldiers-one man, one woman-wore full armor, including helms and visors, that had enchantments embedded in the metal by Elidyr to repel a symbiont attack. Even with the armor, there was still a risk that a symbiont might be able to attach to the wearer, especially if the symbiont was strong and determined. But it helped to cut down on the danger.

Neither of the soldiers showed any sign of having heard the artificer’s words of caution as they continued fighting the thrashing, writhing symbiont. Though the tentacle whip made no sound-indeed, it possessed no capability of doing so-the air in the chamber was charged with tension, and the other captive symbionts moved about restlessly in their cages. The soldiers wielded devices Elidyr had specially designed for handling symbionts- metal poles with retractable cable nooses. Both ends of the tentacle whip-the barbed tip and the mouth-were held tight by the nooses, allowing the Karrns to drag the symbiont across the stone floor to its cage. Though someone unfamiliar with symbionts would’ve thought the whip fought fiercely, Elidyr knew the whip was putting up only a token fight, weakened as it was by Rhedyn’s attack and the forced removal from its host. Still, its struggles were strong enough that it might injure itself if its handlers weren’t cautious.

The hooded brown-robed figure standing beside Elidyr sniffed in derision.

“It seems the reputation you Karrns have for bravery is somewhat exaggerated. Not only do your people need to wear armor to handle one symbiont, they also need enchanted armor.” The dolgaunt spoke in a phlemgy, whispery rattle, his voice a sickening parody of human speech.

“I’d speak more softly if I were you, Sinnoch. Your presence in the lodge is tolerated only because I’ve interceded with my brother on your behalf. But his sufferance is not without limit, and if he heard you speaking of soldiers in his command like that, he’d run you through without a moment’s hesitation.”

Sinnoch sniffed again, but he said nothing more. Sinnoch’s robe was large on his almost skeletal frame, the voluminous hood and long sleeves concealing the dolgaunt’s inhuman features. There was movement beneath the cloth over Sinnoch’s shoulder blades, sinuous and serpentlike, indicating Sinnoch’s true nature. Elidyr didn’t know if the movement of the shoulder tentacles was an unconscious gesture on the creature’s part, or if he did it on purpose to remind all within eyeshot that he wasn’t human. Given the chaotic thought patterns of Sinnoch’s kind, it was impossible to know for sure, perhaps even for Sinnoch himself.

Elidyr Brochann was a middle-aged man with an unruly mass of white hair badly in need of trimming. Elidyr was reed thin-almost as thin as the dolgaunt. The artificer had a tendency to remain motionless until such time as movement was required, and even then he moved with a deliberate precision and economy of motion that said he was a man who despised waste of any sort. He wore a leather apron over a plain white shirt, gray trousers, and black boots. Bloodstains covered the apron, remnants from the rushed and none-too-gentle removal of the tentacle whip from Osten. The blood didn’t bother Elidyr. After all, it was something of an occupational hazard for him these days.

Finally, the two soldiers managed to get the symbiont inside its cage, loosen the cables binding it, and withdraw the poles. After that they swiftly closed the door, visibly relaxing once it was locked. The symbiont cages had been fashioned from spell-reinforced steel built to Elidyr’s precise specifications by artisans of House Kundarak, and in addition, Elidyr had added an enchantment to the cages to keep the symbionts sedate. Once the tentacle whip was inside, the spell went to work, and the creature curled up and became still.