Help... me...
She was dry, so dry. Yet her armor padding was soaked. Hoping against hope that it wasn't blood she felt, but only sweat, she opened her swollen eyes. It wasn't the red stain of blood-She offered a prayer of thanks to Sehanine for this small favor. In battle with the cursed undead here on Mount Galardrym, the only blood would be her own.
Misery awakened before she had a chance to move much. Her joints felt as if they were filled with broken pottery shards when she did. Her head pounded with each heartbeat from the heat and lack of water.
Help me...
Lillith sat up, wincing as her overworked muscles screamed their outrage. She felt like the whole mountain had fallen on her. The last thing she remembered was the the undead fire giant king charging at her when she'd run out of arrows, then... darkness.
She felt the little one inside of her move. Not her usual agitated kick, but a slow rolling like she was trying to get comfortable. Easing back a bit, the mother-to-be held her middle and hummed an ancient elven lullaby, sure that the sound, along with the soothing thoughts she communed would settle her restless babe.
That done, she took a moment to look around. Someone had placed her carefully on a pallet covered with animal pelts under a sheltering roof. Rolan, her heart lifted at the thought. But where is he? Where is Gale? The open side of the shelter looked out over The Seat of the Mountain, dominated by the fire giant king's throne. Aside from the fire giant's frowning monument to their ruler, there was nothing to be seen-Nothing moved.
Please... help me...
At Lil's feet was her carry-all, battered but still whole. Taking it up, she dug around and pulled out a bottle that she knew was inside. The curative that she'd bought from Nya in Port Llast would give her a much needed boost. The golden syrup was sweet, yet sour at the same time. Nya swore by its effectiveness-She called it sleep in a bottle. Lillith believed in its power to revive her like a few hour's worth of sleep. If applied to wounds, it would speed healing as well.
Help... me... please...
She poured a worm of the syrup on a finger and licked it-She'd always liked the taste. Two more times and she was feeling better. Take it with water, she reminded herself, looking around the shelter. There it was. Her spirits lifted when she picked up the full waterskin. Burned into the side of it was a pair of letters that meant little to her-AJ. It smelled alright, so she took a small sip-Slow, don't overdo it, her mind advised-It wouldn't do for her to sick it back up. It was far from cool, but it still refreshed her. At the second sip, her stomach clenched alarmingly, but soon subsided.
That feeling of being watched had departed, she felt completely alone. It was now replaced by a vague sense of urgency. Hurry or I will be lost, it told Lillith. She wasn't sure who would be lost-Maybe the forgotten one? She wondered. To test her legs she stood and took a halting step, then another. Though stiff, they would support her. A little exercise and they'd be fine.
The clearing was a chaotic collection of weapons, armor and bones of every sort. Animal, human and giant remains were everywhere. Where in this godless graveyard were her husband and Gale? She'd never felt so alone.
Help... me...
The faint cry was just above a whisper... it wasn't anything her ears could hear. The restless wind that had scoured these peaks for generations would have covered any sound less than a loud conversation. It seemed to come... from behind her.
Lillith slowly turned to the barred gates on the prisoner's pen beside her shelter. That plaintive cry for attention was coming from inside...
The iron bar on the gate was as thick as her wrist and twice her height in length. It resisted all her efforts to draw it aside, stubbornly refusing to move. Giving up for the moment, she looked around at the junk scattered around the clearing before finding what she wanted.
Wedging the end of a broken axe handle behind a shoulder swaged into the bar's end, she threw her weight onto the handle and was rewarded with a rusty groan as the bar moved half a hand. Encouraged, Lil laboriously worked the heavy bar back far enough to release one of the ponderous gates. After she'd pulled the gate open, she took a careful look around and slipped inside.
At first glance, there was nothing here but a pile of rags in a far corner. A closer look revealed a dark elf, a drow female dressed in the finery of an underdark merchant, curled up in the corner. Fearing the worst, she stepped closer to the body and kneeled down. To Lil's relief, the drow merchant was still breathing.
An application of Nya's sleep in a bottle to the dark one's lips seemed to revive her a little-She stirred and uttered a weak moan. Silvery, almost colorless eyes opened and regarded Lil with a dark suspicion.
She uncapped her waterskin. "Can you sit up now?" she asked with her hand on the drow's shoulder.
The drow sat up slowly and after a few sips of water, took a look around before speaking. "Thank you, sister," she said in a strained whisper. Looking over Lil's shoulder, she grimaced-Something outside had caught her attention.
"Beautiful dark sister... forgotten one," a man's voice called from the clearing. "I know you are in there... COME OUT," It commanded.
The dark elf woman moaned again-Concern was plain on her lined face. "It is HIM... don't let him take me," she implored.
Lillith, after a quick look around, picked up the only weapon there-A broad bladed short sword. Though it was small, it had been crafted in the underdark and almost seemed made to fit her hand only. As she slipped out the partly closed gate, Lil failed to see the drow's sly grin.
The warrior she faced was a stolid looking moon elf dressed in a modest chain mail shirt-His hand was on the pommel of a sheathed greatsword worn on a simple tooled hide belt. Under any other circumstances Lillith would have thought him handsome. To show her intent, she brandished her sword, spinning it deftly and stopping it with its point in her off-hand-Showing him its entire length.
Upon seeing her display, his face broke into an amused smile. "Hold there, ferocious one," he said with laughter in his voice. "I would speak with the dark one... with your leave, of course." His smile widened.
Though she saw no guile in his manner, Lil held her ground. "That woman is no threat," she insisted. "to you or anyone else..."
A strident voice that could only be drow interrupted her; "Tethrin Veralde'... Corellon Larethian's bastard get," she hissed. "What is it you want of me? Will you never leave me in peace?" the dark one challenged as she emerged from the half opened gate and faced the Master of Blades.
He surprised Lil by bowing and addressing the drow formally; "Eilistraee, Daughter of Araushnee, my mother, Sehanine Moonbow, wishes to speak with you. Corellon's estranged children needn't face their ascent from the darkness alone. It is still not too late... the rend may yet be healed... come with me... please." His emotion, unlike any drow Lillith knew was very much a part of the people of the moon. To the moon elves, the War of Crowns was over.
At this, the dark one's reluctance vanished-She almost smiled. "Very well, half-brother-It is certainly worth a try, one moment, please," she replied. Turning to face Lil, she released the clasp on a fine silver chain around her neck. "This is for you, my child," she said in a voice that belied her Ilythiiri warrior spirit. "Bless you for finding me in my vulnerable, physical form. When you awakened me, the fire giant's curse was lifted."
She nodded toward the moon elf warrior waiting patiently near the broken valley gates. "It appears that my step-mother means to have her way. Still, I don't regret that she sent you to find me and you led my half-brother here to plead her case," she said with a sigh. "Well, my Li'l Liantelle, I must go. You have earned this amulet along with my heart-felt gratitude. It will protect you and keep you safe from all that is evil." The drow goddess fastened the pendant around Lil's neck and kissed her forehead. "Farewell, my child-Be brave in the trial ahead," she entreated.
Rolan's Lillith, an orphan from the village of Highcliff, now Sehanine's Chosen One, watched in wonder as Eilistraee, The Silver Lady, and Tethrin Veralde', The Master of Blades, linked arms and made their way through the valley gates.
She wasn't ready yet. He wasn't sure how he knew-He just knew. He was fighting the cursed one, and as frightening as this situation was, he carried on-Even though he knew his effort was just a delaying tactic. Corellon's daughter was still here on the mountain-Lillith needed more time. A calculated sweep of his staff at his foe's legs put it on the ground, but it began to get up right away. Knowing that he'd gained only a breath and a heartbeat or two in time, Gale moved on.
Lillith did not hear the two as they walked up the path.
"Corellon's bastard get?" he was aghast.
"Almost as bad as forgotten one," was her rejoinder.
"What is so bad about that?" he wondered aloud.
"Forgotten implies that I am alone-no followers-No believers. That is an insult to any deity," she practically hissed at him.
"Not forgotten, dear sister-The emphasis was on beautiful. How could you not fill the temple with faithful?" Knowing a dark elf's sensitivity to wile, he dared to compliment her. In this instance, it was worth trying.
"Hummpf," was her only reply. She was not mollified in the least.
"My Lady... to arms," a moon elf boy passing the gates on the run called. When he saw Lil, he turned and tried to stop all at once. Just when she thought he would lose his balance and fall, he nimbly recovered and ran back the way he'd come.
She was so glad to see him, his alarm went unheeded. It was Gale... Surely Rolan had to be somewhere near. The sound of bestial snarls and childish cries of anguish stopped her after only a step. Gale was engaged in battle with an animal of some kind-And faring poorly by the sounds coming from beyond the gates. The quiet that now descended from the confrontation did nothing to dispel her dread.
She now noticed the drow short sword still in her hand. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was better than an empty quiver. What would her militia instructor say about her shortsightedness? People, there are many ways to throw your lives away, he'd said on a day that seemed a long time ago. One sure way is to run out of bolts-Keep count and live longer. The memory of his lecture brought a stab of homesickness.
The figure at the entrance was a man in chain mail... Rolan. She took three long steps toward him, almost dropping her blade in her excitement. "Where have you two been..." her elated question died on her lips when she got a better look at him. "Oh, no-Gods no," she moaned. Could... this thing... this remnant be what was left of her trothed, her lover-Her friend for these few short years?
The once bright chain mail he'd worn was now tarnished and dusty looking-As if it was recently exposed to a great heat that aged it in an instant. The tabard that bore the mark of distinction among Seldarine warriors was a scorched rag hanging in tatters about the thing's neck. But the worst was the face-His beloved face. It had aged an eternity... since his... death. Her mind rebelled. This was not Rolan-The man she loved still lived. Gale... Gale was well-He was still alive. How could he let her husband die?
The cursed one was upon her. With unholy strength, it knocked her sprawling to the rocky ground, sending her blade spinning away across the clearing. The blow to its back made the horror turn with an enraged snarl to face his attacker.
The thing towered over Gale, who was a sorry sight. Though he was bloodied and trembled with exhaustion, the moon elf held his ground-His staff still menaced his opponent. "My Lady, this is not your love. Your love is no more," he called to her, his tired voice brave despite its desperation. "You must release him before he kills us both..." A blow silenced him before he finished.
Before she could stand, it was upon her again. Drawing the Sea Dragon Cutlass given to Rolan by the Double Eagle's crew, it held the blade overhead to strike.
Lillith felt a warmth between her breasts. The Silver Lady's amulet, though it glowed white-hot, did not burn her-It caused the cutlass poised over her head to give off a light of its own. With a cry of pain and anguish, her undead attacker dropped the burning blade and fell on her.
The putrid smell of scorched flesh sickened her as its hands closed around her throat. Beating at its arms did no good-They were as solid as iron bars. Black pits from the hells were in the thing's eyes. As she stared into them, dull red flames flared out at her. Black spots danced before her eyes. Her mortality was before her now.
Consciousness was fading. She felt a lethargy steal over her. The babe's agitated kick brought her back to this world. As she pushed at the ground, Lil's hand brushed something solid-Wrapped around its hilt and raised the glowing blade. When it touched the thing's face, the abomination that was once her husband recoiled with a horrified wail.
"Release him," Gale's voice was now inside her head. "If you love him... set him free."
The thing's head was down. It could not look at the blade's glare. She knew then it could not harm her any more. She'd won-Now, she could walk away.
"End his torment," the sentinel's voice insisted. "Only you can release him."
"NO..." her soul cried out. "How can I... kill him?" She refused to let him go. Memories jostled together in her mind-Clamoring for her to hold on.
A lonely orphan girl who was irritated to distraction by a pest-of-a-boy who was more interested in her than in the spider she was intently watching. A spider who knew just how to spin a beautiful web without anyone's help.
A boy who became very upset when she ignored him, or even worse, made fun of his strange habits.
A boy who was beaten up by the local bullies trying to defend her honor.
A boy with the annoying habit of dumping every coin he could find in the collection box at the waif's home's front door and then insisting that he wasn't buying her attention.
A boy who really didn't mind that his girl was a better archer than he was.
A boy who missed her when she was in a mood and stayed away.
A boy she'd tolerated, endured, noticed, liked, loved, then... lost on this disease-raddled shite-pile of a gods-damned hell-fire blasted mountain.
"Damn you," she cried, her anger boiling over. "How could you leave me?" she raged, kicking loose gravel at the pitiful figure standing before her. She raised the glowing cutlass over her head. Its glow was in sympathy with the amulet she wore at her breast. A final thought stayed her stroke;
A boy who'd grown to be a man by capturing her heart with the words; 'Teach me how to love you, Anaramin'.
She had... and he did. It's done, she mourned. It's not enough for Lil at all, but it'll have to do.She bowed her head. Sehanine, help me carry on.
Her anger faded-replaced with her love and sympathy. Through her tears, she saw him as she would always remember him. "Farewell, Astalder, my love. Wait for me at the end of the trail. I'll be there when I'm done," she said, just before the blade did its holy work.
After seeing the Chosen One finish her task, the communing Highcliff three, feeling the sharpness of her sorrow and loss, brought her swiftly home.
A/N Thanks Wyl. C.