But she remembered something one of her teachers at the Rekkenmark Academy had once told her: You can run from danger, but you can’t run from yourself.
She grinned. She’d never been one for making the safe choice.
Rhedyn shouted for her to stop as she ran toward Osten, but she ignored it. Lirra had fought enough battles to narrow the focus of her attention to a single objective. In this case, getting close enough to Osten to slam the handle of her dagger into the side of his head and render him unconscious. The man wasn’t in control of his own actions right then, and she’d spare his life if possible. But Osten had known the risks when he’d accepted the symbiont, and if she had to slay him, she would.
Osten’s left arm flexed upward, and the tentacle whip coiled back into his waiting hand. He then swung his arm around and released the whip again, its length unfurling toward Lirra as she ran to him. She dodged to the left and the barbed tip of the tentacle shot past her, but a half second later she realized her mistake; the whip hadn’t intended to strike her directly. The end of the whip curled down, approached her from behind, and wrapped around her right ankle. Osten yanked his left arm back, and Lirra’s leg was pulled out from beneath her. She fell onto her left side and hit the stone floor hard enough to force the air from her lungs. Sharp pain stabbed into her side, and she thought she might’ve broken a rib or two. She still had hold of her dagger-a Karrnathi soldier didn’t release her weapon until she was dead, and maybe not even then-but stunned as she was, the blade did her little good at the moment.
The tentacle whip coiled loosely around her right wrist and its barbed tip continued slithering through the air toward her face. She feared that the whip intended to inject her with poison, but instead it wrapped around her neck. Then the coils around both her wrist and her neck tightened, preventing her from wielding her dagger while at the same time cutting off her breath.
She reached up with her left hand and clawed at the coils around her throat, but her fingers could find no purchase on the symbiont’s rubbery flesh. The coils constricting her neck were tight as iron bands, and they were growing tighter by the second. Gray began nibbling at the edges of her vision, and flashes of light sparked behind her eyes. A deep lethargy swept through her, and she knew she had only seconds of consciousness remaining. She focused the last remnants of her rapidly fading strength and continued tearing at the coils around her throat. She knew it was hopeless, but she would keep fighting until she could fight no longer.
Everything went black for an instant, but then she felt a shudder pass through the coils around her throat, and the pressure eased enough for her to draw in a gasping breath. Before her vision could clear, she grabbed hold of the coils and began yanking them off of her. As Lirra struggled to sit up, she saw a blurry outline of a shadowy figure standing between her and Osten, with the midsection of the tentacle whip gripped in one hand.
She understood what had happened. Rhedyn had used the corrupting touch imbued by his own symbiont to stun Osten’s tentacle whip, thereby saving her life. She unwrapped the last of the limp coils, careful to keep the barbed tip away from her skin. Osten stood staring at Rheydn’s shadow-shrouded form, as if he were having trouble seeing it-or perhaps he saw it, but in his weakened state of mind he didn’t understand what he was looking at. All signs of the fury that had gripped him were gone, leaving only confusion in their wake.
“What … happened?” he whispered.
Osten didn’t see Vaddon coming up behind him, and Lirra’s father couldn’t see the expression on the other man’s face. Lirra tried to call out a warning, to tell her father that Osten was no longer under the influence of the symbiont, but her voice refused to work, and all that came out of her mouth was a soft croak. The general’s own features were horribly calm as he stepped up to Osten, raised his sword and brought it slicing down onto the man’s arm where the symbiont was attached.
Osten screamed, and Lirra’s fragile hold on consciousness evaporated.
CHAPTER TWO
Warm healing energy spread through Lirra’s side like liquid sunlight, suffusing skin, muscle, and bone, washing away pain as it mended. The sensation was so soothing that Lirra found herself drowsing, and she nearly started when a soft feminine voice spoke a single word.
“Better?”
Lirra opened her eyes and looked up at the speaker, a lithe middle-aged woman with large green eyes and pointed ears whose blonde hair held only a few strands of gray. “Much. Thank you, Ksana.”
The half-elf smiled. “You’re most welcome.” The cleric removed her hand from Lirra’s side, and the warmth dissipated. Lirra started to sit up, but the half-elf gently yet firmly pushed her back down onto the cot.
“Best to lie still for a few moments longer,” Ksana said. “A bit of rest will do you good.”
The bedroom window was open and the curtains drawn back, allowing the late afternoon sunlight to filter into the infirmary, along with a pleasantly cool breeze. The wind felt soothing on Lirra’s skin, but she was especially grateful for the sunshine. Summers in southern Karrnath were cloudy more often than not, and sun was always a welcome sight.
Lirra looked at the cot where Osten lay, eyes closed, hands-both of them; Ksana had managed to save his arm, she noted with relief-folded on his stomach. The tentacle whip was gone and he was alive, but despite Ksana’s attentions, the young soldier’s skin was pale and his breathing shallow. His clothes had been exchanged for a simple white robe-a good thing, considering how much blood had been on them. At first Lirra had no idea if the man was conscious, but then she noted the way his eyes moved erratically beneath his closed lids, saw his facial muscles jerk and spasm. He was sleeping then, but from the look of it, not sleeping peacefully.
“Will Osten recover?” Lirra asked.
Ksana’s expression grew more serious. “Yes … despite your father’s best efforts to kill him.” She shook her head, though Lirra couldn’t tell whether she did so in frustration, admiration, or a combination of the two.
“He was just trying to protect me.”
“Of course he was,” Ksana said. “Vaddon is never more dangerous than when he thinks you’re in trouble.”
Lirra started to reply, but she bit back her words. She knew Ksana wasn’t mocking her father. Ksana had served with Vaddon on numerous campaigns, and she’d been around so often while Lirra had been growing up that she was like a member of the family. When Lirra’s mother Mafalda had been killed during the Battle of Jaythen’s Pass when Lirra was just a child, it had been Ksana who’d helped Lirra through her grief. And the cleric had done the same a few years later when her brother Hallam fell at the Siege of Thiago. Ksana might tease on occasion, but she would never mock someone she cared for.
“The boy’s strong, which is a damned good thing considering the state he was in when he was brought to me. After Osten lost control of his symbiont, your father ordered the creature be removed from his body. It wasn’t an easy-or a neat-process with the boy unconscious, but your uncle and his”-her upper lip curled in disgust-“assistant helped, and in the end they managed to detach the tentacle whip. Unfortunately for Osten, his injuries were so severe that being weakened like that nearly killed him. If I hadn’t been there to tend to him as soon as the symbiont was removed … Well, it was a close enough thing as it was, and let’s just leave it at that. He will recover, though even after the blessings of Dol Arrah, it may yet be a couple days before he regains his full strength.”