Chapter XXIII

‘Bloodlust'

Distilled to jelly, Xena's legs folded beneath her. She drew the bard's lifeless body over her thighs to rest in her arms and sat there, numb, staring up in unabashed surprise at the murderer of her best friend. It was a cruel twist: to hold one twin, dying...dead, while the other looked down haughtily upon the scene. Xena found that as much as she tried, she could not form coherent thought, couldn't make any sense of what had just transpired -- this dreamlike execution -- and yet the blood on her hands seemed real enough. The sight of it filled her eyes with hot tears, but she willed them back. Weeping was an admission of defeat. She was far from defeated. She could act. She could exact revenge. As Gabrielle's warm blood coursed over her legs and pooled beneath her, Xena began compiling a mental list, only to be startled out of her reverie by the presence of a strong hand upon her shoulder. Without looking up, she knew it was Elkton.

My fault...my fault...He shook his head as he observed Xena, desolate, devastated over the body of her friend. The warrior whom some had said could not be moved shivered like a reed in a cool breeze. He wanted desperately to console her, to offer some explanation, but when he touched her mind he found there was no room for him, no room for his soothing rhetoric or self-serving excuses. He had always been a man of good intentions -- as High Priest, prizing his connection with Morpheus and his intuitive grasp of things above all else. These aspects had served him well. Until tonight. Now, as he gazed down at Gabrielle's lifeless body, the greater implications of her death were lost to him. The image of Xena wordlessly rocking the body of her friend would be forever embedded in his memory. His total recall of this night would be his self-inflicted punishment and so it was with some reluctance that he centered his gaze on the young woman standing over Xena, and said, "Have you any idea what you've done?"

The girl tilted her head and furrowed her brow, perplexed by his attitude. "Oh, Teacher," she crooned. "Of course I do. You always taught us to think before we act."

Elkton's mouth worked convulsively for a second and a light passed behind his eyes. "Lysandra? Is that you? Or is this another of Manus' deceptions?"

Almost before the name had time to register on Xena's already ragged emotions, the much-loved features of her friend blurred and resolved themselves into the vaguely-familiar visage of Lysandra, a promising country bard and Elkton's prize pupil...storyteller, dream weaver ... murderer. She was taller than Gabrielle, by a head; she was not physically imposing, certainly not intimidating, and yet there was an unmistakable air of arrogance and superiority in her expression. A half-dozen gruesome and painful ways to wipe that smug smile from the girl's face sprang instantly into Xena's mind. With a care and patience that belied her inner turmoil, Xena lowered Gabrielle to the floor and stood, taking her time, looking at the blood that stained her, letting her anger flourish, replacing the incapacitating chill of grief.

Lysandra saw her own reflection mirrored in a cobalt blue gaze of pure, unadulterated hatred. She gripped and re-gripped the sword in her hand as she stared into those angry, accusing eyes, into the very face of pain and grief given physical form. Feeling compelled to speak, she gave voice to the first logical words to come to her. "It had to be done," she said, a look of studied insolence about her. "There is more at stake here than --"

With an inarticulate cry of rage, Xena was on her feet, propelling Lysandra mercilessly against one of the support columns; her body remained pinned there, suspended a full six inches above the floor by the indelicate placement of Xena's hands around her throat.

"Xena!" Elkton's hands gripped Xena's left forearm and tugged. His efforts were countered by unyielding bone and muscle. Mount Olympus would be more easily moved. "Xena, let her down!"

Lysandra sputtered and choked and looked fearlessly into Xena's toothy grimace. "You d...don't under..stand..." she croaked. She let the Sword of Psyche fall from her fingers. Her own hands clamped down upon Xena's and she forced a thumb between her throat and Xena's left hand. It was just enough. "Ask me why."

Xena retorted between clenched teeth, "You little shit!" She renewed her grip on the girl's throat. "Who died and made you Zeus?!"

Lysandra gasped for breath and kicked feebly with her legs. "I can....I can explain..."

Elkton watched the girl struggle and couldn't help feeling that it was all for show, designed to solicit sympathy from him, but if it was genuine, he couldn't let her die by Xena's hands. In the end, he chose to intervene as much for Xena's soul as Lysandra's life. "Xena," he said, trying to insinuate his body between Xena and Lysandra. "You can't kill her!"

"Watch me," Xena growled without taking her eyes from the much-hated face before her. She repositioned her hands, centering the heel of her right palm over a prominent knob in the girl's throat; Lysandra loosed an involuntary squeak. "How much pity should I feel for her, Elkton? You tell me that!"

Failing brute force, Elkton tried negotiating. "She's as much a victim of Manus' schemes as Gabrielle!" Xena's eyes narrowed, the corner of her mouth twitched and he knew he'd found a chink in the armor. "Was Gabrielle responsible for her actions? No. She was a pawn, a victim... Lysandra is no different. Manus is the real villain here. Save your venom for him."

Lysandra took advantage of Xena's momentary indecision to inject a verbal wedge and she chose her words with care. "One life..." she croaked. "Ring any bells?"

Intrigued, Xena loosened her grip. "Talk fast. I bore easily."

"I was there, with you and Manus in the dreamscape. It was me beside you at the campfire. I heard Manus' offer to you. The same offer was made to Gabrielle."

Visibly stunned, Xena dropped her left hand to her side and allowed the girl to slide down until her feet rested on the floor, but she kept her pinned tightly to the column at the end by a strong right arm.

"Who made this offer?" Elkton interjected. "Manus?"

Lysandra waved his inquiry away as negligible. "Photis had the prophecy right. It was the blood of an innocent, and Gabrielle was the logical choice." The girl felt Xena's fingers constrict around her throat.

"You're lying," replied Xena flatly.

"I'm not," gasped Lysandra in retort. Again, she felt Xena's grip slacken, and again she used logic to stay her execution. "You know I'm not! Because you know it's just the kind of thing your little bard would've done...sacrifice herself to spare others. That sort of thing is fine if you've more lives than a cat, but it's rather reckless if you're a mortal."

Elkton narrowed his eyes and considered the teenager a moment, and when he spoke again, his tone was almost playful. "And in what category precisely do you fall, Lysandra?"

Xena brought her other hand to bear on Lysandra's throat. "Let's find out."

Lysandra's eyes smouldered behind dark lashes. "I'm aware, Xena, that you could snap my neck with very little effort, and no conscience."

Xena's grimace would've passed for a smile under different circumstances. "I wouldn't lose any sleep over it."

Lysandra lifted an eyebrow in a mocking gesture. "How interesting you should choose those words." She darted her eyes to the side, and past Xena's shoulder. "Look behind you."

Elkton complied with the command, and while Xena gave Lysandra her undivided attention, she was in no mood to indulge the arrogant teenager's whim. "Gimme a break," she said humorlessly.

"Okay," Lysandra retorted lightly, "don't look behind you."

Xena's patience was understandably non-existent. However, Elkton's expression , a combination of surprise and dread, compelled her to turn and regard the focus of such rapt attention. Until she witnessed Manus raise himself up, she had forgotten the larger implications of Gabrielle's death. The prophecy was fulfilled...and Manus was free.