(For background see Lilta and lots and lots of other stories...Xan's Helpful Chronicler)
Xanderian opened her eyes slowly, feeling warm and quiet., laying on the grass of a hillside. The air was utterly still, and silent...silent as the grave.
With a start, she sat up with a cry and reached to her throat...but the wound was not there.
Looking around, she immediately recognized where she was...the coastline of her dream Lindon, the coastline where her parents had departed all those years ago. She had dreamed it many times...but this time no swan-masted ship sat at anchor, no shade of her mother lingered to taunt and challange her...yet she was not alone.
Beside her sat a young Elleth, her yellow blonde hair gathered up in an intricate style, a soft, welcoming smile on her face. She was dressed in a delicate blue party gown whose lines and fabric Rian did not recognize, sitting barefoot in the grass, an open book beside her. Around them in the hills along the shore, there were many others, elves and men, male and female both, arrayed in similar blue robes and gowns. Looking down, Xanderian was still in the same dusty, blood stained armor she had been wearing when...when what?
The girl beside her smiled. "Welcome Xanderian...I am Calen. You may rest and relax now, for you are here."
Xanderian rose to her feet awkwardly. "Here..where is here?"
Calen just smiled, and picked up her book, rising as well. "Here is here, with our friend...you need not worry so any longer, Xanderian. I have now done my duty, and greeted the next. One day you shall do your duty as well and greet the one that comes after you...but for now, you may rest and speak with her. He has been waiting for you."
Xanderian had more questions, but Calen was already moving away, into the groups of others standing or wandering, some just watching the sea in its endless drumbeat. So beautiful and serene...
A voice drew Xanderian away from her reverie. "Welcome my sweetest servant..." The voice seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once, so soft that it seemed to boom across the coastline, echoing in total silence. Xanderian had never heard the voice in quite this way, but by that fact alone she knew what it was and turned. Standing beside her was a beautiful young man, imperially slim, her figure sleek and slim, a light beard on his angular chin, a blue light glowing in her loving eyes.
"Hello my beloved Heartbreaker...where are we...and why am I here, do I dream?"
The figure laughed, like sweet music painful to the ear. "You are with us, my sweetest servant, and you may, or may not, dream...does it matter?"
Another sound would intrude on the silent din of this place..a voice...screaming NO. Xanderian would think for a moment, then place it...Eduwiges of Faldham. Rian suddenly remembered..the battle...the Spike...her friends. She stared, wild-eyed at the figure, so beautiful and cold, her hair cascading nearly to the ground down her back, bent with age. "Sweet Heartbreaker...I must return..my friends need me..I cannot...Cyndwin, Hawke, Fillegedhiel...I promised them I would not leave them!"
The figure just smiled, his cherubic face smiling as he looked up at the Huntress. "You are here now, not there...what happens there is now their problem, not yours. You are meant to be here now, with us."
Xanderian looked around her, growing increasingly frantic, then looked down at herself, armor gleaming dully in the moonlight. "If I am meant to be here, not there, why am I still arrayed for war...all others here are dressed the same, but not I..why is this?"
The figure seemed to pause, confused, his lordly expression faltering. "I...do not know...something is...wrong...we must observe and see why you are not fully here." At that, the figure slowly walked to the top of the hill, looking down away from the coast and into the Port of Kheledul.
The huntress followed and looked down, sucking in her breath at the scene.
Heartbreaker's scream still echoes through the fortress, having broken the petty illusions that had bedeviled the fighters. Free from the dreams, Eduwiges cradled Xanderian's head, covered in blood as Erech withdrew and escaped, feeling his sorceries crumbling. Hawke drops to his knees beside Xan, also released from Erech's cruel spell, unsure what do do.
At the Spire, Heartbreaker's shriek snaps the malaise gripping the trio as Lore leaps to her feet, aware that Xanderian had fallen but staying focused on their mission alone. Shouting "Spinnerette" as she presses her hand to the Spire, all it's protectors having already been slain by Vandallan before he was laid low, the smoking Spike at the top seems to tear lose from the stone and slowly float down to hover before her, a prize to be claimed at last.
Beyond the gate, the illusions of Addie's mother and the executioner of Gondor are broken as well, allowing Nethrida and Addie to flee in confusion into the dubious shelter of the port to behold the chaos. Addie immediately hears her close friend Vandallan, calling out "It is not my time! I will not leave this place yet! I cannot die!" as he plummets from his tower perch. She runs to try to help him even as Nethrida sees Eduwiges and Hawke trying to revive Xanderian, staggering towards them.
"No...no..." Nethrida mutters in disbelief, shaking her head, but knowing from the sheer amount of blood and her dull eyes that Xanderian is already gone.
Watching this scene, Xanderian shook her head as well. "My Heartbreaker...sweet Lilta...this is not how it is supposed to be. I should be there, not here, else why am I still garbed for war?"
The figure rubbed it's pudgy hands together and seemed to be deep in thought, then spied something in the scene and nodded..."Ahhhh..so that is it!".
Lore and Ahmo drag Ahmrun painfully to his feet, all three knowing the ship is surely in place to spirit them and this foul weapon away to Lindon where it can be locked away safely.
Again Enthan's voice would echo, one more desperate warning. "LOOK...LOOK AT THE SPIKE...REALLY LOOK AT IT AND SEE THE TRUTH!!!" Ahmo shakes her head, confused, their triumph is near at hand, which will make Xanderian's tragic but essential death worthwhile. Why should she linger when speed is their last ally as reinforcements must be near at hand?
However one last worry still seems to nag at her..and she clears her mind and looks at the splinter of black stone floating before them so temptingly.
Xanderian looked at the willowy young woman beside her, tears of frustration running down her face. "Lilta...HELP THEM..PLEASE!!!"
The figure would shake their head sadly. "We are sorry, my sweetest servant, but we cannot oppose the works of the Maiar. Their fates are forged in time and we cannot avert their doom directly."
The Huntress groaned then, suddenly realizing what must be happening and feeling a slowly spreading sense of guilt and dread...then an idea came to her in a desperate flash. "Then do not oppose the creation of the Maiar...but aid my friends...give them your grace, as you would give unto me. Are they not heart of my heart, blood of my blood? You swore an oath to me, mighty Lilta, that you would forever go where I go...My heart, my soul goes to them...go to them too."
The figure sighed, the sound like a thousand angels dying, and nodded. "You have moved us, sweetest servant, your logic is that of your folk and too adorable to refute...and we shall go to them...."
Staring at the Spike, Ahmo hears another voice in her ear, seeming to sound like everyone, everywhere, all at once, whispering simply, "See", and the veils clear from her eyes. Standing where she thought was a hovering weapon is in fact a Dwarf of foul countenance, stark white hair and beard, his eyes burning with a red fire deep inside. On his hand, a silver ring gleams, it's stone a lurid red..as she lays eyes on it, she and Enthan both know what they have truly been facing. Ahmo whispers to herself "Sindya, Dwarven Ring of Artifice...lost to Mordor centuries ago...and then you must be Mans, Slavemaster of Kheledul.".
And with Ahmo's speaking of the name of both ring and wielder, it's illusion is broken and all see him for what he truly is.
Mans curses, and with the swipe of one hand slaps Ahmo away, stepping past her and looking around at the warriors. He snarls, and in a voice clearly not entirely his own screamed "Damn you...we were so close...SO CLOSE".
Recovering themselves, both the wounded Ahmrun and the nimble Lore strike, each landing powerful blows that would seem to have no effect, the silver ring on the dwarf's misshapen, claw like hand blazing. A vicious kicks sends Ahmrun to the ground and Lore is backhanded, her body hurtling through the air, slamming painfully into the Spire as blood sprays from her mouth.
Mans sighs. "All come to nothing...this took YEARS...YEARS, you filthy little worms."
Vandallan pulled himself off the ground and away from Addie, clawing his way towards Mans. His long blade gripped in his hand, knuckles bloodless white. Seeing him striving, Hawke rises from Xan's side, having given up trying to revive her, and moves towards the Dwarf as well with murderous determination.
Nethrida and Eduwiges stay by the side of the elf, the girl of Rohan beginning to keen as trudging slowly back up into the port is Xandilif the Banshee, dragging an unconscious Masin behind her, four blood red claw marks glowing along the left side of her face, dripping blood still. She leans on SilverWand, the blade covered in Morroval blood, and notes her fallen sister before looking at the Dwarf. "You played us both all along, didn't you, you fecking griffin turd..."
In answer, Mans turns to his old enemy and it isn't Mans at all, but a woman, perhaps 30...a scar along one cheek...her eyes wide and terrified... "Oh please you brave elves, my name is Cily. Save me and rescue me from that horrible slaver'" The woman begins to laugh cruelly.
Xanfilif spits her own blood. "So...it was always that fecking ring...the Spike...the horrible weapon of shadow..was one shitty little dwarf with a magic ring. What a nazgul-buggering joke.
The dwarf walks slowly towards Xandilif, ignoring everyone else."It took years...YEARS to make it work..and then, you were going to do EXACTLY what I had always wanted you to do, you stupid knife ear....you were going to take me right into Lindon...Sindya...and Me, right past all their defenses and wards....But you couldn't manage it...bunch of damn failures and misfits.
Trying to raise his sword to attack, Vandallan weakly bellows his warcry. Mans waves his ring hand and the elf screams and falls, without the dwarf ever looking at him. Instead he is focused on the badly wounded Xandilif, moving resolutely towards her. "Let's kill both of you witches on the same day, hmmm...that will make all this worth something at least..."
Standing next to Van as Addie rushes forward to tend the elf archer, Hawke realizes that the Dwarf hadn't even noticed him. Noting this...and not sure the Banshee even has the strength left to lift SilverWand in her own defense, he charges forward and swings the ornate dagger that Van gave him, knowing at least he has to try.
As the blade whistles down, Hawke braces to be cast away as the others were, but he suddenly realizes he is not alone...to one side is a figure which seems to be everyone, and no one, at once...and looking at it, he would seem to hear Xan in his head, shouting "HELP HIM..." The figure would smile and frown, whispering in a thousand different voices. "Hello Gwaellion...you may call me Lilta...but just this once..."
To his other side, is the glowing blue image of a woman, the same woman he had seen as a slave before, but now dressed in simple but noble garments, her hair held back by a glittering elven diadem, her features fine and clear and clearly Gondorian. She rests her hand on Hawkes' blade and speaks, her Sindarin accented with Dol Amroth and righteous rage. "How dare you, undead filth, tell such lies to my only son..How dare you take my form and face in vain....."
The silver blade lands and Mans stares at the stump of his left arm in pure shock...and then looks at Hawke in disbelief as his hand, bearing the ring, clatters to the stone of Kheledul.
As his defenses fade, all the attacks raining down on him from the warriors batter his small body mercilessly. Mans staggers back, the ring beyond his grasp as he stares at Xandilif who never moved.
The elleth just shrugs...."Yeah...maybe the Monk is the one who gets the last laugh ya little bastard...she gathered this lot, didn't she...and they just killed your hairy little ass...or maybe it's Tris who gets the last laugh. Whoever it is, it ain't you laughing, ya little shite..not this time.'
Mans struggles to rise, then gives up. "This....isn't over....I will be...coming...for all...of you....One...by...One...and I will laugh then". With a final groan, the dwarf topples forward and begins to rot..in a few seconds he is barely bones. It is clear this body has been technically dead for a very long time.
Addie rushes back to Van, pressing a medallion into the badly wounded elf's hand who sighs and lie still, seeming to take great comfort from both girl and pendant.
The rest just stand, looking at one another for a moment, is this it, is it over, did they win?
The Lady Ahmo rises first, looking at the blood stain on the marble, and shakes her head. "The ring..Sindya..it's gone...". Then she looks at Xanderian's body and gasps, both Eduwiges and Nethrida still guarding it hopelessly. Suddenly it all seems real.
Elsewhere, the huntress looked at the figure and whispered..."Thank you..but am I really supposed to be here?..if so..I have goodbyes I must say...."
The figure shook his shaggy head and smiled. "No, my sweetest servant...technically..you are nowhere. You perished and should have come to us, as is our bond yet for the blade of the vile ...Look at it there beside you...it sought to steal your soul for the evil designs of the fallen Maia...and therefore you were caught between elsewhere and here. You didn't, in truth, go anywhere....you are...still...there.
Everyone follows Ahmo's gaze...just as Heartbreaker, laying in Xanderian's dead hand, begins to sing. A song of life and death and victory and defeat...of ageless oceans and fresh cut timber, of diamonds and coal and love and hate....until Xanderian closes her fist around the bow.
Rising slowly, a bright blue scar now decorating her throat, Xanderian picks up the silver and onyx blade from the stone and looks at Xandilif across the courtyard. The two nod to one another, no words needed...and slowly walk past their deeply confused allies in silence, returning to their horses and the war, still raging outside this Port. There would be time to see to the wounded and understand all that had occurred in the Battle of the Spike...but, for now at least, in a way, they were all victorious.
...but at what price? That was yet to be seen....
