In the back room of the Rusty Barge, the largest tavern in the city of Linhir, someone some years ago had set up a large, hardwood tub. It was more like a giant bucket really, with aged oak sides and brass fittings. A spout to convey water heated over a fire outside came in through a hole in the outer wall, along with the sounds of birdsong from the apple trees yonder.
It was simple, it was crude, it was rustic….but it was just what Xanderian needed after days of riding and tension, not to mention having an extended conversation with a Necromancer in the illusion of a long dead inn.
The Huntress leaned her head back, eyes closed, letting the warm water cascade over her long dark hair. She smiled to herself as the door to the room opened, then closed again…she had heard and identified the footsteps approaching as soon as they entered the tavern’s front door.
Xandilif practically snarled, now leaning with her back against the tub. “You have been in that over-zealous ale barrel for practically two hours, ya know that Monk? By Elbereth’s knickers, you are gonna grow gills one a these days…that or tentacles. O’ course, some of your playmates would prefer ya with the tentacles….”
Xanderian casually splashed her sister. “What would you know of gills, or tentacles…or playmates and their preferences for that matter, Banshee.”
The Champion ran a hand through her short, now wet hair. “Whatever…speakin' of tentacles it is about time we put hoofprints between us and this sad little fish-stand, Rian. We have been here way too long as it is. Place is no more then a ring of huts with a firepit, or nearly. I been in Uruk camps in Mordor that were nicer, and offered better damn conversation. Considering all that happened, if we ever overstayed our welcome someplace, it is here….”
Xan paused, and looked at her sister from beneath her slick black bangs, her eyes soft but piercing. “None of this was your fault, Gawad….”
Xandilif glared at her sister….then looked down. “Fault? Maybe not, but I didn’t do nobody much good, neither. I ain’t good at this kind of thing like you are. I take orders fine, give em pretty good too, but ain’t much for looking ahead. I tried ta lead, and it all went ta scratch before I knew it.
“You did the best anyone could…” Xan half rose out of the tub, her arms crossed over the edge. “One knight fell and that is tragic, but that was out of your hands. Yes, townsfolk died, but you did not slay them. All of our comrades survived where they should have died to the last man. All of this was a trap, Xandilif, a trap intended to catch YOU and as many of our company as possible in an eldritch doom. That we are even having this discussion is a victory.”
Lif slammed one fist into the wall, and it seemed almost as if the building shook. “What about Trouble, eh? We gonna tell Nethrida that her mother is just collateral damage?”
Pulling the chain, Xan poured more hot water over her head, then spoke through the splashes. “I am surprised at you, oh mighty Champion of the Azure Faithful. Nethrida is a soldier, and soldiers understand that people die in war…and this is war. Can any deny that? Nethrida needs and expects no apologies…just a chance to gain her revenge. She is a Captain of Gondor. Just as Braddock of the Vanguard grieves his fallen and marches forward, so shall Nethrida.
Xandilif nodded softly and looked away…”Yes…she is a good soldier, she does herself honor…but that is not all of it…I…”
Xanderian rose from the water, shimmering like alabaster in the torchlight of the bath, and reached for her robe. “I know…they each described what they thought they saw in the Undercity, what they struggled to understand. Sifting through the misconceptions I can see the truth. The trap was not for you alone, it was for SilverWand as well. The child Tris, the situation of the town, the lingering fear, the desperation, and despair of those around you, the animus of Mans…the power of the undead…and the intervention of Agon, the Sapphire King. There is little wonder that SilverWand ran wild, or nearly did so. I am amazed you kept it under control this time.”
Sighing and looking up at her sister, Xandilif’s eyes seemed to glow in the half-light. “The other time, they knew what was going to happen, they consented…that was a sacrifice…this…this was a deathtrap. It took all I had to turn the Sword's hunger to the shades and not the Company. Still not sure how I managed it.”
Xanderian flipped her wet hair back, and reached out one long finger, pressing the tip against her sister’s left shoulder which was covered by a thick crimson robe. The Champion winced and gasped as Xanderian nodded. “I KNOW how you managed it, Banshee, and the price you paid. It is still bleeding?”
Xandilif spat and shrugged the robe off her left shoulder. A mass of thick scar tissue, perhaps six inches across her shoulder and left breast had split and was oozing a thick, black ichor. The reopened wound seemed to pulse and glow with a sickly grey light. “It is stopping…shouldn’t be much longer now.”
Nodding, Xanderian soaked a cloth in warm water and pressed it to the wound. “You took a dangerous chance, my sister.”
“Yeah, but it worked out alright…and what else could I do? Let em all get sucked dry?” Lif pulled away and closed her robe. “Anyway, Finchley was there.”
Xan nodded, dropped the robe and began armoring herself with her sister’s aid. “Yes she was, and Mans knew that. Will this set off another long lament that if you had known your foe still lived, you would have never loved again? You released Tris now when you had the chance, I can feel it…release your guilt and loneliness as well Gawad. For once and for all.”
Lif pulled a strap tight. “I ain't lamenting shite. I already discussed it with Babygirl…she…she understands I think…in her way, she is as good a soldier as Nethrida. I read the letter from Hrorr you brought from home, he says I should look for someone in the Downs who may be able to give us more information on Finchley’s Grams. Someone called Catalinna, which is just a stupid fecking name if you ask me. First light, Finch and I are gonna head out with Eduwiges, make for Trestlebridge before the snows start.”
Braiding her hair, now fully dressed, Xanderian nodded in understanding. “Catalinna…the Angmar Priest, Desad, told me of her and a sister called Sableinna. He warned me they would betray us, but I know not how far to trust the word of our foes. At any rate, I knew you would not remain long…I am glad you are not going alone. Hrorr is a trusted friend…follow the path he has shown you, and if you find something, send word. Calidis and I will take care of the others.”
Xandilif nodded and threw the door open. “Yeah, I figured you would….Do better by em then I did.” She stalked out into the hallway.
Xanderian watched her go, raising her voice. “Sister….I lov…”
Xandilif cut her off before slamming the door. “Yeah. Me too.”
