Disclaimer: I make no claim whatsoever to the characters or world of Final Fantasy VIII, which is the property of Squaresoft/Square Enix.
Chapter VIII
Life beside the shores of Lake Vienne had been good to Rinoa.
In the weeks that had passed since her arrival, the chill in the air had lessened, replaced by the scents of spring carried on the wind from the south. Frost no longer covered the ground in the mornings, and the last of the snows were sodden and mushy, closer to rain. Rinoa was excited to experience warmth in this new land that was now her home: to see what colors the blossoms and flowers of the coming seasons would bring, to taste the first sour berries of summer, to feel the soft rays of Trabian sunshine on her face.
Alongside her daily work with the nomads, she had kept her thoughts busy by mapping her surroundings in her mind. The shape of the lake, the two tree-covered islands at its center - when the summer came, she would swim out to them, she decided - the winding streams that trickled through the forests, the dirt paths that were the vestiges of roads trodden by Trabian traders in years gone by. Rinoa promised herself that if the day came again when she might hold paper and an ink-pen in her hands, she would bring the map to life. For now, it would stay in her head, gaining new squares and new details every day.
She was surprised at how easy it had been to fall into a natural hierarchy with the nomads. It was a given that Quistis' words, few and infrequent as they were, were never questioned. When Quistis was silent, Xu was the one whose instructions Rinoa followed, and when she needed detail or explanation, she looked to Nida for guidance. Rinoa had always hated the idea of taking orders, from her father or from anybody else, and yet Xu's commands did not trigger her knee-jerk stubbornness. Perhaps it was Xu's straightforward, unemotional delivery. Maybe it was the obvious need to work together for survival in a world stripped bare of the complications of settled society. Or perhaps, wondered Rinoa, it was simply the fact that she was, at last, growing up. It was time enough to do so, surely. She had greeted her twenty-first birthday more than two months ago in Esthar, on a chilly evening in a downtown tavern huddled around a bubbling hotpot with Selphie and Irvine. It felt as though years had passed since then.
On an evening when the breeze had softened enough for her to shed Squall's cloak and let the last light of the sun fall on her arms, she was watching Nida fletch his arrows with crow's feathers picked from the lakeshore after a scuffle between two birds. His heavy brows were set in concentration as he split the feathers in half at the quill, and trimmed their edges with his knife. He then moved onto preparing the arrow shafts, already whittled and shaped from slender young birch.
"Hold the first one for me, will you, Rin?" he asked, and she obliged. Rinoa held the arrow shaft as still as she could while Nida cut a v-shaped nock in the wood, and wrapped the feathers on tightly with fine sinew taken from forest meat. Nida knew how to use every part of an animal: the hide, the bones, the sinew along the leg muscles. Rinoa marveled at how much was wasted in Galbadia and Esthar in comparison.
"Good. Next one, I think." He turned the arrow in his fingers, testing its stiffness. Rinoa had come to enjoy the gleam of satisfaction that crept across his face at a task well-accomplished. She held out her hands to take the next arrow shaft, and they repeated the process in companionable silence.
They had completed a dozen arrows when Xu came stomping over, sword at her waist and a grim line pulling her mouth downwards. Quistis was at her back, her expression somber.
"What is it?" Rinoa asked, as Nida stood, gathering the arrows.
"Use your eyes," Xu said, her gaze directed southwards, towards the path that led to the village.
Rinoa squinted against the setting sun, and saw that there was a group of people moving towards the lake, small figures still half a mile or so away. She could make out the shapes of six or seven men, one of whom Rinoa was sure was the burly figure of the miller. He carried an axe in his hands.
"What could they want from us?" she wondered aloud. None of the nomads answered.
Nida stood, slinging the quiver across his shoulders. "Xu, I am ready when you are."
Without a word, Xu began walking in the direction of the men, and Nida quickly caught up. Rinoa rose to her feet, unsure if she should follow.
Quistis laid a cool hand on her shoulder. "No, little thief. Stay here with me. We will wait together." Rinoa looked up at her questioningly.
"If I go to meet them, they will attack on sight. It is better to have Xu hear their grievance first." Quistis kneeled in the sand and wrapped her arms around her body. "She and Nida are Trabians. The villagers are more likely to hear sense when it is spoken by those from the same land. Let us hope they will listen."
Quistis did not speak as they waited, her eyes fixed on the south. The daylight faded quickly, and it became harder to make out what was happening, but after a while, Rinoa could see Xu and Nida walking back towards the lake. The group of villagers, however, did not retreat. They were standing in the wide open steppeland, watching Xu and Nida move away.
Xu strode towards the camp, her face twisted in disgust.
"The same as ever. Misfortune that they ascribe to you," she told Quistis.
"What misfortune?"
"An infant died in its slumber, without clear cause. The fools cannot imagine any other reason than witchcraft."
Quistis straightened and gave a heavy sigh. Then she turned wordlessly to her tent, and began dismantling it, untying the canvas covering and pulling it off the metal frame. She caught sight of Rinoa's look of confusion, and said, "There is no hope in staying here."
"What? Why?"
Quistis held out the canvas sheet to fold, motioning Rinoa to take the opposite ends. "You are young; perhaps you have not yet learned that there is no greater pain than the loss of a child. Nothing I can say will ever reach their ears." Rinoa numbly took hold of the edge of the canvas, and stared as Quistis turned to Xu.
"Tell them we will move North, and they shall be spared from my presence henceforth."
Xu nodded, and began to walk away.
"But they have no right! How can you let them drive us from our home like this?"
Quistis met Rinoa's outburst with blank eyes, took the now-folded canvas in her hands, and said nothing.
"Home? We are nomads," said Xu. "Nomads have no home. Have you understood nothing of our lives?"
"I- But-"
Xu did not wait to hear Rinoa's defense. Nida patted her shoulder in sympathy. "We move on, Rin. We always do. Chin up," he said, before picking up speed to join Xu in delivering Quistis' message.
Rinoa was left standing helplessly on the sand, watching them leave. Hands shaking, she knelt to attend to her own tent, fumbling with the ties.
"This is how we live," said Quistis quietly. "If it displeases you, you are always free to leave."
Rinoa bowed her head over the tent frame, hiding her hot cheeks from sight. She did not think Quistis was angry, but then, she did not know what anger might look like on Quistis.
"I spoke out of turn," she said.
"No. We must always be able to speak our minds. None of you should cower in fear before me. I have never wished for that." Quistis gathered the bundle of steel rods and stuffed them inside one of the heavy hide travel packs. She lifted her head to meet Rinoa's eyes. "Still, we must leave this place. Will we leave it together?"
"Yes. We will." Rinoa vowed, and set about packing up the nomads' belongings.
They traveled through the night, putting as much distance between themselves and the villagers as possible, before making camp in the mid-morning at the foot of the western mountain range. The grassy steppeland had given way to rocky tundra, covered with patches of snow, and the journey was treacherous in the dark. Rinoa had slipped twice on unseen ice, the heavy pack on her back bringing her balance crashing down, with Nida pulling her to her feet afterwards. She could barely speak from tiredness as they set up the tents, and slept deeply until the early evening, when she was roused by the smell of the cooking pot. Nida had awoken sometime after noon, and had shot two game birds from a nearby forest thick with snow. Rinoa ate the meat hungrily, and drank melted snow-water from the kettle until she was sated.
The nomads did not seem to share Rinoa's distress at leaving Lake Vienne. Nida was already his usual self, laughing and genial. Xu, though quieter than usual, had a gleam in her eyes that Rinoa took to be excitement. She had a feeling that Xu relished being on the move once again, welcomed by the wide landscapes and open skies of the northern Trabian lands. Xu, born in a place where the snow rarely melted, did not fear the far North as Rinoa did. She listened as Xu and Quistis decided on their next destination: the southern reaches of Bika Snowfield. The forests there would provide shelter and food, Xu reasoned. And so it was settled. Another five, maybe six days' travel, and they would be close enough to choose a spot to set up camp.
The journey did not grow easier, even in daylight. As their path rose higher into the mountains, the snowfall thickened, and the winds from the north were bitter. Rinoa's breath came out as a cloud of white around her mouth, except for an hour or so either side of high noon on a clear day. The fires Quistis lit were the only source of warmth when the dusk fell. At night, Rinoa's only comfort was the cloak Squall had given her. She wrapped it around her face, letting it cover her frozen nose until she had to pull it away, gasping for breath. Rinoa sometimes wondered idly if the scent that lingered in the leather was Squall's. It was not unpleasant, far from it; it was sweet and mild, and reminded her of the rice-milk soap in Esthar Castle's bathhouse. He must have bathed there, after all. She felt a heat spread over her skin at the idea of Squall soaking in the cypress wood bathtub, his hair wet, his eyes closed as the steam rose up from the water. What she would have given to be there right now, warm and safe. Even if it meant...
Stop it. Rinoa pushed Squall's face out of her mind, and scolded herself for letting her thoughts dwell on him so often. He surely was not thinking of her in return. It had been months since her escape. She was sure to have been forgotten by now. Perhaps a new bride had already been found for the heir to Esthar. Some other woman would marry him, love him, and bear his children. Not her.
The snow was falling, light and soft, when they neared the forest at the south of the Bika region. The snowfield lay to the north, vast and featureless, and a small hamlet nestled at the side of a hill to the east, a cluster of log houses, smoke trailing up into the sky. Quistis gazed eastwards, her face troubled.
"We should go to them in greeting," said Xu. "Assure them that we will cause them no trouble. Nida and I will do it."
"It may not be wise, this time." Quistis tore her eyes away from the village, and frowned at Xu. "Word travels faster than we do. If their elder has already heard from Vienne-"
"Better to announce our presence now, than to have them discover it later," Xu shrugged. Nida folded his arms at her side. "She is right. They will shoot us if they chance upon us in the woods."
Quistis considered their words, and nodded, her expression still conflicted. "Then go. But Xu, do not press the matter. If they are hostile, tell them we will find somewhere else."
After Xu and Nida set off for the hamlet, Quistis directed Rinoa to gather dry twigs, and lit a small fire. She knelt over it, warming her hands, and Rinoa joined her.
"Surely, if they met you, they would know that you intend no harm. Why do you not reason with them?" she asked.
"Fear can rarely be reasoned with." Quistis watched the flames dance and crackle, and was silent for a while before she spoke again. "Those who hate and fear Sorceresses do so because they hate and fear women. Never forget that, little thief. They hate our bodies, the bodies that gave them life, and our hearts, the hearts that loved them and shaped their minds. They hate a woman who rejects their ways; all they see in her is their mother, chastising them or refusing them comfort, and it ignites their rage. More than anything, they fear the possibility of a woman with great power. One strong enough to lead other women to rise up and overthrow the order of the ages in which we are sold, traded, beaten and trodden into the dirt. A woman with magic will always sow more fear in men's hearts than a man with strength. Always."
Rinoa stared, lost for words. She had never heard Quistis speak at such length, nor with such intensity. If the world was truly as Quistis said, then they could never be safe. Had Quistis accepted that? Was that simply the fate of a Sorceress?
"But... there are good men, too, are there not?" she asked, pleading for Quistis' reassurance. Rinoa thought of Nida, and of Squall. She trusted Nida with her life, and she felt sure she could trust Squall with it, too.
"Yes. There are always good men," Quistis' mouth curved into a fond smile as she turned her head to the east, and Rinoa knew she, too, was thinking of Nida. "Never forget that, either. And as there are good women, there will always be women eager to burn the witch. They do not realize that when they burn their sisters, they only burn themselves."
Rinoa clenched her hands against the flames, warming her knuckles. "How can you bear it? How could anyone swim against the tide of such hatred?"
"Living like this, hidden away from the world, is the only solution I have found. If I lived among them..." Quistis shook her head. "There have been others who choose that path. But not I."
They sat silently, and Rinoa became lost in her thoughts. Without warning, the fire stuttered out, and Quistis clutched her chest, bent over in sudden pain.
"Ni... Nida... has gone," she whispered.
"What?" Rinoa asked in alarm. "How do you-"
"He was my Knight." Quistis raised her head, and her face was heavy with anguish. "Oh, Nida... I have lost Knights before, but he was the best of them." She closed her eyes, and covered them with her hands.
Rinoa's mouth was dry. "Xu... Is she?"
"I do not know. I am not bound to her as I was to him."
Quistis struggled to her feet, and picked her way over the forest floor to the expanse of tundra that spread towards the village. Rinoa stumbled after her. They started to run, boots sinking into the snow, and picked up speed when a figure became visible amid the snowfall, a hunched figure dragging her feet forwards, determined to keep walking towards them. Xu.
Xu dropped to the ground before they reached her, her hands clutching her side where the shaft of an arrow dug into her ribs. A second, bloodied wound at her abdomen showed where another arrow had pierced, one that Xu had ripped out. The arrow at her ribs was lodged too deep. Rinoa stared at slim birchwood shaft and the crow's feathers, soaked and spattered red with Xu's blood. Feathers that Rinoa had held in her hands at the lakeside, only days before.
"They shot you... with his arrows?" she said, and Xu nodded weakly.
"Nida..." she rasped, her eyes on Quistis. "You already know?"
"Yes. I do."
"Forgive me. I was too slow to save him. Their anger... we were unprepared."
"It is I who should ask for your forgiveness, Xu." Tears were running silently down Quistis' face. She sunk to her knees at Xu's side.
"No. You gave me a home when I had none. I am proud to die defending you."
"My life was never worth yours," said Quistis, her voice thick with pain. Her fingertips glowed, and a swirl of pale blue magic dispersed into the frozen air around them.
"Can you heal her?" Rinoa asked, desperation pulling at her heart. Xu could not die too, not here, not like this...
Xu dragged her hand away from her ribs, and covered Quistis' fingers with her own. "It is too late."
"I must try."
"No,"said Xu, with sudden force. "We both know the cost, and I will not accept it." She shot a meaningful glance at Rinoa. "If you will not think of yourself, then think of her."
"Me? Why me?" Rinoa stammered.
Neither woman answered her. Xu's nails were digging into Quistis' skin now, though Quistis showed no sign of pain.
"Will she take my place?" Xu asked, her breath heavy.
"I could never take your place. I am a thief, not a warrior."
Xu tried to shake her head, then stopped at the pain the motion caused. "Not that." She looked back at Quistis, eyes ablaze. "Tell her."
"In time." Quistis' tears were flowing freely, but her face was set, solemn and resolute.
Xu's eyes traveled between Rinoa and Quistis, and her agitation subsided as she seemed to reach an answer to a question Rinoa did not understand. Her eyelids sagged lower, her gaze on Rinoa all the while, and when her eyes finally closed, her ragged breathing slowed into short, shallow breaths that all too soon, faded away.
Quistis bowed her head low over Xu's body, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"What did she mean?" Rinoa asked, too stunned to take in the fact that Xu was no longer breathing, Xu was dead, Xu was gone.
"In time, little thief," Quistis answered, and turned her face away to be washed clean by the falling snow.