Chapter twelve – For Fifty Thousand
I
They did not speak again until the Strahl was ascending once more, Balthier comfortable in the pilot-seat, the thrill of flying sending tingles through his very being. The others had scattered, to the lounge, the bedroom; he did not care – alone at last with his ship.
This; his Strahl, this was all that he ever had, and ever could truly love. He did not care what Reddas said. Whenever he slumped back into the upholstery, his hands resting on the console, feeling his stomach tighten as the airship ascended into the skies, it felt as if his life resumed once more, and that all that had passed since, the hours or days on the ground, was naught more than a triviality, that it did not really count as life, as being alive.
However, no matter the thrill, they would not fly far. From the Golmore Jungle they would travel on by foot, and by his estimation it they would arrive by dawn. That would mean he would have another twenty or so hours, manipulating the machine to bid his will, soaring through the clouds at his leisure, but alas, it was not to be so. The Princess had seen to that, insisting that he would need his rest. And so, he and Fran would share the task. Neither of them had informed the Princess that the Viera needed no sleep. But of course, he had to concede, it would not suit the leading man to look careworn and tired. And as it where, he still had a few more hours in which to enjoy the sensation of boundless freedom.
But troubles and distractions did not abate. They never did. As the doors to the cockpit slid open, his first thought was that of the time, and how much was left; surely his watch could not be concluded so soon?
It was indeed Fran who stepped into the room. He could hear the noises of weapons-polishing, and if he was not very much mistaken, the rustling of a map; presumably Basch did not trust the Vieras sense of direction. She did indeed look quite annoyed as she sat down in the seat next to him, taking her place as the second pilot.
"I have a few hours left, we are still in Naldoan airspace."
While speaking, he tapped one of the monitors, as if she needed to be informed. But she did not speak, not even to acknowledge that he had spoken, but continued her distant gaze out of the window. It was as if she did not notice him, like the old days, when they could travel for hours without feeling the need to speak. How he missed such serenity and peace.
When she spoke, it was in her usual cryptic turn of phrase.
"You have much changed."
"You refer to the meeting," he assumed. They had no spoken since, and it seemed it was a great deal to discuss. Still, Balthier did most of the talking.
"I must confess, I even surprised myself. We must be careful Fran, perhaps all these knights and orphans are about to make a decent man out of me."
She turned her head, looking at him with something akin to anguish.
"Do not fret," he laughed. "There is no chance of that happening yet. But I do stand for what I said. Penelo should be given a chance, just like you."
"I do not think you take as much care as you ought to."
He laughed again, though a little strained; she seemed so serious, even more so than usual.
"I do not think we have much to fear from a little girl."
"And yet you are already damaged."
The comment left silence. Through the cockpit-door, they could hear the others, Basch instructing what would be the best path to take. Balthier's hands seemed limp on the controls, and he suddenly recalled he was actually steering, having been lost in her comment for a while. But soon he regained his faculties, straightening the ship, clearing his throat.
"It only happened one time. And you can hardly blame her for loosing control once. She is young; she'll learn. If you do not believe in her, why did you not abandon me?"
"I do not side with Reddas, it is not my way. But you should be aware, Balthier, you have lost more than you think. I beg you, do not tie yourself to this girl. She is no Hume anymore, you need not the experience of separation twice."
Her weak allusion to his long forgotten infatuation with her, made him rather uncomfortable - they had not spoken of that old fad in years – so much so that it took a while for the rest of her words to sink in.
"Hold on! You claim that she has stolen more from me?"
"Can you not feel it?"
There had been something, he recalled. This very morning he had been sized with a sensation of something forgotten, but he was not capable of remembering what. Could it be possible that Penelo had stolen yet another memory. Perhaps in the height of passion, perhaps all kinds of excitement induced an 'episode'. He would have asked Fran, but did not wish to be chastised for having put himself in such a decidedly foolish situation as being kissed by a Soul-Eater; he did not think his pride could survive her scolding. Although, perhaps there was something fundamentally wrong with him, that he placed vanity above personal safety.
He kept silent, and so did she, until the time came for her to take over the controls. And though he did not say so, a part of him felt secretly glad for the excuse to leave her company, and shut himself in the quietness of his own bedroom.
II
He must have fallen asleep after all. Bolting upright on his bunk, his eyes adjusting to the dark, it took him a moment to realize that the Strahl was still airborne, they where not there yet. His hands fumbled, trying to locate the drawer at the nightstand bolted to the floor next to his bunk. Having at last found their target, he flipped open the pocked-watch, and saw the time; it was still a couple of hours 'till landing. This all came as a relief, he must have slept for hours, and yet the fatigue did not seem to abate, but rather set more determinately into his bones. He slumped backwards, into the hard mattress, pulling the too small blanket over himself, burying his head into the pillow. He would need to regain strength, quickly. He did not need the others to ask questions, inquire after his health. More than anything it was annoying, but also it might raise suspicion towards Penelo. None of them knew just how her condition worked; she might steal energy in a quite literal sense. Both Fran and Ashe where already on their guard; should he spend the following day yawning, they would notice.
The bunk was not as soft as one might wish. Growing up, he was accustomed to the finest of down, and the softest of silks. Still, the reduction of bed-comfort was a small price to pay. He drew up the blanket, trying to cover his shoulders, leaving his feet bare. It shouldn't be cold, and yet he felt chilly, thought that might just be the result of his childhood-reminiscence. It had indeed been strange, being back in that house; the place he'd sworn never to set foot in again. Yet everything, every little memory, had seemed to diminish in the face of present dangers. Balthier was not in the habit of reminiscing; perhaps he would not loose so much in the company of Penelo after all, seeing as there was so much he wished to forget. No, much more preferable then, to concentrate on the task at hand. What's more, he found he really did mean what he'd said; Penelo's condition might prove to be a blessing.
Feeling the fog of sleep descend upon him, he pulled the blanket ever closer, thinking, he should have removed his shoes.
When he woke again, it was Penelo's gentle touch against his shoulder, slightly shaking him out of whatever dream keeping him. It was slightly disturbing, her face looming over him, so close. He found it unreasonable, expecting him to be sociable this early. She smiled her serene smile, and he recalled, they had not spoken since their shared passion, the kiss by the doc. And yet she did not seem in the least embarrassed. Balthier, on the other hand, spent more time regaining his composure than he would have liked, trying to sneak a peak at the watch at the nightstand, discerning just how long he'd overslept.
"We'll eat outside. It's a beautiful day! Fran told me to wake you."
A sudden shadow of concern flickered across her face, as though she thought he might be angry she'd woken him.
"That sounds nothing less than perfect. What's the time?"
"Around six, I think."
Balthier groaned, dropping back into the pillow. The Princess certainly wasted no time. And he really did need a shave and a clean shirt before resuming life on the road. Yet Penelo, always the morning bird, seemed to find his testiness amusing. She giggled softly, shacking his shoulder once more.
"Come along. The dawn really is beautiful. And Basch has stolen something from your food-storage; it smells great."
"There is no force in Ivalice strong enough to dampen your spirit I see."
He grumbled into the pillow, noting the chill had not yet abated. Perhaps food would indeed do him good. Life on the road provided scarce and often sporadic meal-times. She gave him another glimmering smile, seeming genuinely happy, and he couldn't help but wondering if that would cost him another memory.
"I'll just be a moment," he told her as she bounded off the bed, halting by the door. With a flicker of her braids, she was out of the room, leaving it silent. He rose, following her, thought with a slightly more dignified pace, out onto the dewy plains of Ozmone.
They all appeared to be waiting for him, though once they saw him, all sat in motion, filling their bowls with what appeared to be yet another 'Captain's stew' – a soldiers specialty no doubt. But it was hardy food, and would no doubt save him through the day, even thought he would be defying his slightly more refined palate. He sat down, accepting his bowl in silence.
Penelo had not been lying, the sun rising over the plains was a sights not to be missed. They all ate without talking, observing the suns ascent across the horizon, until Ashe decided it had had enough of a head-start, and began packing up.
"We will take the route through the jungle," she began instructing. "It is further than the rift, but more accessible. You have no objections Fran?"
The Viera only shook her head. She was already packed, and gazing at the outskirts of the forest with an unreadable expression.
"It will not take long, a day through the jungle perhaps. But the Faywood that follows is worse, travelers has been lost in there for months," Balthier interjected.
"Yes, yes, we know," Ashe did not look happy at this sombre warning, and he was glad of his understatement; most people never returned.
III
The climate produced a damp, sticky air, that left an unpleasant taste in the mouth. At times it was as if the air caught in his throat, but worse than that, he was beginning to feel sleepy again. This was not the same lethargic laziness as that of the Salika Forest, but a rather more imposing exhaustion, that seemed to dim his senses. Of course, they where all tired, all slightly affected by the climate. It was normal to be tired, and he knew he should not worry. In fact, he decided it was Fran's fault for suggesting he was not alright.
They made it through the woods at a steady pace, none of the enemies making much resistance. He suspected this was due to Penelo's presence, thought no one said so out loud.
The brilliant sun that had kept them company on the plains, had been at once obscured by the thickness of the jungle-vegitation. The forest did really posses a presence, and a rather grim one at that, the freshness of dawn as shut out as the sun. Day and night must be indistinguishable in here, the atmosphere even more oppressive than the Capitol, Fran had made a vise move to leave, and yet she seemed the only one of them quite contented with being back.
At frequent intervals Basch insisted bringing forth the map, thought Balthier could not conceive why; Fran had lived twice longer in this forest, than Basch had ever been thought of.
The captain rustled with his map, Ashe peering over his shoulder.
"Yes, you are quite right; the path has not moved since last you checked."
Balthier had always suspected that exhaustion did no favors for his mood, and this was certainly a confirmation. Even Penelo, who seemed to have recuperated nicely, looked careworn. She kept looking at him, he could feel it, though he did not look back. But the path was narrow, and occasionally his hand would stroke past hers in a swift and fleeting motion. It seemed ridiculous that he should suddenly be so aware of this, as if the back of his hands suddenly possessed more nerve-endings. He always seemed to know where she where, though he did not look for her, and once, when she'd tripped over a protruding root, and tumbled, he'd caught her without so much as a second thought. Perhaps all this wasted energy was the source of his sleepiness, perhaps this was what attentive people felt like all the time, he would need to become less considerate again.
It seemed that this third map-stop would transform into a rest-stop. He had no objections, and they all sat down, perched on roots or trunks, or simply the mossy forest floor. When leaning his head back, scrutinizing the leaves, he could just make out the glimmering spot where the sun must be, somewhere high above them. Fran sat down next to him, only slightly stirring his root.
"You are cold."
Her voice was low, she did not intend for the others to hear. And yet what was her point? Yes, he was cold, but he would hardly admit so, or else he knew who would receive the blame.
"With this air? I think not. I am not the modest dresser after all."
She did not smile.
"I think we should press on. It would not do to linger too long."
Her concern seemed pressing, yet he could not understand it, and when looking upon her, he found her face as cryptic as ever.
"We are in no danger; no fiend will attack us now. Whatever a nuisance she may be, you must admit that Penelo has made our passing considerably easier."
"It is not the fiends I dread."
"Mist?"
She shook her head, her hair tickling his neck.
"A Hume. It's approaching."
It seemed as if Fran's words worked as a cue. No sooner where they out of her mouth, than a rustling at both ends of the paht, created a flurry of head-movements, all of them trying to discern who was approaching at once. While cursing the dimness of the light, he would only have to wait for the figures to take shape, and little by little they did.
He knew them by appearance only, but he'd seen them a few times before, in Nalbina Dungeons for one. They where not the helpful sort.
"Bounty-hunters," he whispered, feeling the others tensing, readying around him.
There could be no doubt, their sordid appearance, and shifty approach. And yet, was fifty thousand really enough to take such a chance? They where only two, their weapons nothing to boast of; even without Penelo, the party would face no difficulty. But, sneaking a peek at Penelo, he understood; perhaps she would be the problem, and perhaps this is what they counted on?
They had stopped, both of them, at either end of the path. Both had their weapons drawn, but neither proceeded with attacking. It was a great possibility that they where idiots. But it also might be a tactic, aggravating Penelo to lash out, and then clean up after her. If so, they new even less of her condition than the rest of them. However, lash out she might, thought he did not know how.
It would appear that this was Penelo's primary concern as well, because she looked increasingly worried, her eyes shifting from the assailants to Balthier, to Vaan, as thought afraid of them as well. He then noticed her hands, folded together as if casting a spell. It was not until her lips began to move, albeit in silence, that he understood that this was what she was doing.
To his great surprise, he felt anger at the sight. Thought it was not directed at her, nor at the assailant, but rather at the thought that he did not want to let her go, now that she was back, now that she was herself again at last, or at least a semblance of herself.
The assailants, who seemed to interpret Penelo's spell-casting as an 'episode', now halted where they stood, seemingly bracing themselves, as thought a blast would suddenly erupt. What idiots, and yet, it was actually understandable that they did not know how a Soul-Eater operated, Penelo being the only one.
She did not create a blast or lash out, or even have an 'episode'. She cast a spell, and a rather pathetic spell at that, her hands shaking with either fear or anger. It was a sleeping-spell, and she cast it on herself. It took Balthier a moment to realize that while the rest of them had been fearing what her reaction might be to this unforeseen event, she was the only one able to act against it. She slumped to the forest floor, no one stepping forward to catch her, the assailant resuming at last.
As suspected, they proved a weak opposition. They where young, untrained lads of some mix he could not name. Basch had the honor of cutting down the first, not even spearing his life. Fran sent the other on his way with a rather forceful spell. They let him run; it could do no harm, and so he might warn others with similar aspirations to keep well away.
Things had progressed rather smoothly after all, and Balthier was about to check on Penelo when an arrow, almost depriving him of his nose, made him get up again.
Another round of rustles, the forest seemingly moving all around them. The Viera had arrived. The forest must have warned them of intruders, or else they might have made more noise than expected. This might prove to be more of a challenge, because this time they where in fact vastly outnumbered, and each Viera surrounding them had an arrow trained at each of their chests, save Penelo, who still lay on the ground, unmoving and asleep.
Fran, with slow, deliberate movements, took a step forward.
"Søstre."
He could not understand, never having taken the time to learn her tongue. There had been moments, like this one, when he conceded it might have been useful, and yet he'd never taken the trouble.
Yote, he recognized her now, stepped forward.
"Fran, velkommen. What is this thing you have brought into our forest?"
Balthier could not help but noting that the whole world seemed intent on crushing those who had set out so save it. What bitter irony. And these Viera, he had no patience for them. Not today, not with Penelo on the ground, and his own head seemingly filling with fog with every passing minute.
"We do not intend to linger. Let us be on our way, and we will be gone by dusk."
"The forest has not made up her mind. You will come with us. Take the creature with you."
And so they would face yet another detour, lingering, wasting time. He turned, picking up the sleeping body of Penelo, all the while feeling the arrows trained at his body, and hers.
IV
The hamlet appeared as an oasis, a serene place of beauty in the middle of such a savage forest. Balthier felt his lungs fill with the clean, cold air, Penelos deepening breath against his neck.
"What will happen now?"
It was Vaan, having bounded up to his side, looking concerned. Balthier was not able to appease him.
"I do not know. Another meeting perhaps. Or else they might incarcerate us while waiting for the forest to make up it's mind."
Vaan scoffed, earning him angry glances all round. Balthier felt sympathetic, thought he would never reveal such lack of tact. In a way he envied Penelo, sleeping blissfully in his arms. She was in this, for better or worse. There where no choice she would have to make. He had made his, but it would appear it would be tested every day for the rest of his life.
They where directed upwards, to the very top of the hamlet, passing judgmental Vieras as they went, filling their lungs with as much clean air as they could muster without getting dizzy.
"Here," Yote muttered, pointing to a cottage with an authoritative air about every movement she made. "Take the creature, look after her. The rest, join us."
"Excuse me?"
He could not help but feeling affronted. Was he supposed to wait, with a sleeping Penelo, as the others made their decisions.
"You will take care of the creature. Do not fret, you will be brought what you need."
He looked to Fran, but she did not seem to care either way, and so he turned, feeling Penelo sigh, stirring slightly in his arms, and walked through into the hut.
It was warmer, but a clean sort of warmth, the entrance covered with a cloth that flopped lazily in the mild breeze. They where high up, he suspected, high above the forest floor, closer to the sun, which appeared to be setting already. The hut, however, proved a little too small for two. There was a bed, thought narrow, at which he placed his sleeping cargo. It appeared to be fashioned out of twigs, as was everything else. He noted it was all alive, connected to the trees, but bent and shaped as to make a house of sorts. They had even created a small chair and table, though that was it.
It must have been quite the honor, he was most likely the first man ever to set foot in such a place. Perhaps even the first Hume. Maybe they did not oppose as much to Penelo as he'd thought. They might even have a cure. He could feel his enthusiasm run away with him; it would need to be kept in check, he did not need his hopes bashed yet again. Besides, he was still tired, annoyingly so. And though he could not grasp why, a little sleep would not go amiss.
Perching himself at the edge of the bed, he flipped off his own shoes, before removing Penelo's. Lying down, he came to think that this situation had excellent potential for an embarrassing end. Yet, pulling the blanket over the both of them, endeavoring (and not succeeding) to give her some personal space, he could not bring himself to care.
An embarrassing end indeed. Penelo was not a sound sleeper, her spell most likely beginning to wear off. She tossed and turned, at times deciding to use him as a mattress, nudging her head in the crook of his neck, her warm breath trickling across his chest.
He could have enhanced the spell. Even without doing so, he could have touched her. How many memories would that have been worth? But even he, not always respectful of the other sex, conceded that she deserved better. Also it might kill him. It was a restless sleep indeed, when it at last descended, though it was not wholly bad, she was quite warm, after all.
A/N: This story has been revived at last. Due to Real Life (writing), and exams, I've been forced to take a prolonged hiatus from the fanfiction-world. Apologies, and thanks to those who haven't lost interest. Reviews would not go amiss!
