“You may speak freely,” Sinnoch said. “The device I just activated was another of Elidyr’s little toys. It will prevent the sound of our voices from traveling outside the tent, so no one can overhear us.”
“How goes the work?” Rhedyn asked.
“I’ve managed to make some headway in the repairs,” Sinnoch said, “but only some. After assisting Elidyr all these months, I could probably construct a new Overmantle if we had the right materials-which we don’t-but without his knowledge or experience, I highly doubt I’ll be able to repair this one.”
“So we need to get him back,” Rhedyn said.
“Of course we do.” The tentacles sprouting from Sinnoch’s back reached over his shoulders, picked up a pair of artificer’s tools, and began tinkering with the Overmantle. “But not to worry. We’ll be reunited with our friend one way or another. Either Vaddon will capture him-which is extremely doubtful, given how powerful Elidyr has become-or he’ll grow tired of playing with his newfound abilities and seek us out.” Sinnoch turned to look at Rhedyn with his empty eye sockets and grinned, his shoulder tentacles continuing to work on the Overmantle. “He was touched by Ysgithyrwyn, you see. Not only did that touch change him, Ysgithyrwyn implanted the desire in him to complete my lord’s release from Xoriat. Elidyr will have no choice but to reclaim the Overmantle, repair it, and once again attempt to open the portal between this world and the Realm of Madness. We have but to wait.”
Sinnoch turned back around to face his work, though since he had no eyes with which to see, Rhedyn didn’t know why the dolgaunt bothered. Rhedyn watched him work in silence for a time, and eventually Sinnoch said, “Something on your mind?”
The question startled Rhedyn out his thoughts. There’d been a mocking edge to Sinnoch’s words, and Rhedyn doubted the dolgaunt was sincere in wanting to know, but the warrior found himself answering truthfully anyway.
“I’m worried about Lirra. You saw her yesterday … I’m afraid she may be having trouble adjusting to her symbiont.”
“Afraid she’s not going to return to you and be your little playmate, you mean,” Sinnoch said.
Anger welled sudden and strong within Rhedyn, and he felt his shadow sibling whispering to him, urging him to strike out at the dolgaunt for taunting him. He felt a shadowy sheen cover him, and his hand dropped to his sword.
“Control yourself, boy,” Sinnoch said calmly, without turning to look at Rhedyn. “Slaughtering me won’t make her come back to you any faster.”
Rhedyn fought the urge to attack the dolgaunt, and he felt his anger begin to subside. It helped that Sinnoch was right. His death wouldn’t speed Lirra’s return. Rhedyn’s shadowy aspect retreated and he removed his hand from his sword.
“There now, isn’t that better?” Sinnoch said in his mocking tone. “Don’t fret about your paramour. She’s strong-willed, and hosts like her take some time before they fully settle in to having a symbiont. Actually, as strong as her will is, she might well have resisted fusing with the tentacle whip if it hadn’t been for the influence of the Overmantle. And because of the Overmantle, she won’t be any ordinary combination of host and symbiont. She might not have been graced with my master’s touch as was her uncle, but the Overmantle channeled the power of Xoriat into her during the joining process. It made both Lirra and the whip stronger than they would’ve been otherwise, and granted them abilities beyond what they would normally have. I don’t fully understand the scope of their power, mind you, but I have no doubt it’s there. Lirra’s adjustment period will take longer because of this, but as I said, she’s strong-willed, and I’m confident her sanity will remain more or less intact once the process has finished.”
Rhedyn hoped the dolgaunt’s words would prove true. Now that Lirra had a symbiont, there was nothing standing in the way of their being together. She’d come to understand that eventually. She had to.
“And once she’s adjusted, will she be sympathetic to what we’re trying to do?” Rhedyn asked.
The dolgaunt shrugged, the motion making the cilia on his shoulders ripple. “Perhaps. But she may well take some convincing and that task shall fall to you. You know her far better than I. How do you think she will react when she learns that you intend to help me free Ysgithyrwyn, that in fact you’ve been helping me all along?”
After Rhedyn had joined with his shadow sibling, he saw the world differently. It was as if he’d lived his entire life with his eyes closed, and by accepting a symbiont, he’d finally had them opened. He’d come to understand how limited the material world was. So many rules of nature that were inalterable, so many events that happened only one way, and once those events occurred, they were fixed in time, unable to be changed. Rhedyn understood all about wanting to change things but not being able to. When he was a child, he’d lost both his parents to the war, and he’d wanted them back so very, very much. Wanted it so badly, in fact, that his grandmother eventually took him to a garrison that had a significant contigent of zombie soldiers, and there she pointed out two particular undead to him-ones that had once been his mother and father.
“See? They’re still alive,” his grandmother had said. “Still serving Karrnath, still fighting to protect our borders and keep us safe.”
But Rhedyn hadn’t been reassured by the sight of his undead parents. Instead he’d been horrified. And on that day he’d come to understand a profound truth about the world. It was a place where awful things happened sometimes, unspeakable things, and once they happened, there wasn’t a damned thing anyone could do about them.
But then he’d been granted the gift of his symbiont, and he heard the song of Xoriat singing through his mind. Xoriat … a realm where the laws of nature held no meaning, where time meant nothing, where reality itself could be molded and shaped, provided one’s will was strong enough.
“I don’t know how she’ll react,” Rhedyn admitted.
“Then perhaps you’d best hope she’s not quite as strong-willed as she seems,” the dolgaunt offered.
That, Rhedyn thought wryly, is one hope that would definitely be in vain.
Osten sat perched on a large rock not far from the main camp, honing the edge of his sword with a sharpening stone, one slow stroke after another. As he worked, he kept an eye on the camp. He saw Ksana approach General Vaddon and sit with him, saw Rhedyn go to Sinnoch’s tent and chat with the warforged guards a moment before entering. Osten was glad that the general had someone like Ksana to talk to. Even a strong, experienced leader like Vaddon Brochann needed someone to simply listen to him from time to time, and the cleric knew many ways to heal-and not all of them required drawing on divine power.
Though he’d certainly benefited from the latter. Twice now, in fact. If it hadn’t been for Ksana, he would’ve been a dead man by now, and both times it would’ve been due to that damned symbiont. Yes, technically the second time he would’ve died because of the blow Lirra had given him to the throat, but he didn’t blame her for that. She’d just been doing her duty. Once again, he’d lost control of his mind to the tentacle whip, and the creature had taken command of his body. Lirra had known that, and she’d struck quickly and efficiently in order to cause Osten the least amount of pain possible. Even though the symbiont had been holding the reins of his body, Osten had still been aware at the time, and he’d recognized what Lirra had done and why. No, it had been the symbiont’s doing-that, and his own weakness that had twice allowed the aberration to take control of him.
And now Lirra had become cursed with the burden of the tentacle whip, and she was out there somewhere, doing what-and to whom-only the gods knew. Osten prayed that she was safe, and that whomever she came in contact with survived the encounter. Lirra Brochann was stronger than him, that he was certain of, and he doubted the tentacle whip would have an easy time controlling her. Even so, he knew better than anyone, save Lirra, how strong the whip’s influence could be, how insidious, and he hoped her strength would prove sufficient to allow her to resist the symbiont’s corruption.
Yesterday, when Osten had fully recovered from his latest wounds-the physical ones, that is; the emotional ones would take a bit more time to heal-he’d vowed that he’d do whatever it took to help Lirra. Since then, he’d
