CHAPTER 7: GLIDERS AND REUNIONS
Jardin wanted to laugh, to slap Romo on the back and congratulate him on his successful joke, but he knew that cold steel didn't lie.
"I suppose you want some sort of. explanation on my sudden betrayal," Romo said nonchalantly with an irregular tone of bravado in his voice. "Now Jardin, did you not find it more then passing strange that one so important to the Convocation should be sent to war, where he could be killed or otherwise incapacitated?"
"T-the thought had entered my mind," Jardin faltered in his shock.
"Oh, you should have seen Readon when he found that you'd seen that bounty hunter contract on his desk. I thought he'd kill you on the spot! But you were dangerously close to discovering the plot before they had cultivated the necessities from you, so they sent you away. I was told to join the army with you, befriend you, and make sure no serious harm came to you."
"You work for them? You were my bodyguard?"
"In a word, yes. My assignment was to keep you alive and well. Now my instructions have changed slightly. During our leave in Igros, which had nothing to do with your military accomplishments but was arranged so we could acquire the necessary information from you, I consulted with the scholar in charge of our research. Of course, the only thing his department was assigned to was the Zanzira hoard. He told me about their recent findings, that one needed two medallions and that you, of all people, possessed one. I knew my new assignment without even consulting my superiors- to stay with you until you found both medallions."
"You deceitful scoundrel!" roared Jardin, his voice brimming with anger, shock, and anguish.
"Hey, don't blame me! Blame yourself or God," shrugged Romo, not knowing that years later another young knight would mimic those very words.
"Funny time to bring up God, in a pagan temple devoted to a murderous deity of war," scowled Alec, furious at the treachery. "But if I remember rightly, wasn't your father killed by Readon's men? How does that fit in?"
"Oh," sniggered the betrayer wickedly, "I forgot about old Descarei. I killed the fool myself. Don't look at me like that! I'm not patricidal! He wasn't my father, but he was ordered to lodge me under threat of death by torture. On the night Jardin overheard Readon, I stabbed Mr. Descarei, who had made critical comments of the Convocation in a popular tavern, and threw him outside. At that moment soldiers came to escort me back to the castle, but then I saw you, Jardin, running down the road. Thinking quickly, I rubbed a bit of the old man's blood on my face for effect and killed the nearest soldier. The others, of course, were rather shocked, and one even crossed swords with me, but then you came. A belated thank you for helping me out in that little misunderstanding."
"You threatened a man with death if he didn't comply with your demands and then you killed him anyway?" blinked Alec. "That is low!"
"Considering his options, a katana to the back is an absolutely delightful alternative to the long, slow arts of torture we've developed. His reward was not dying a traitor's death like he deserved."
"You son of a-"
"Oh, I'd be careful on how you speak to me, Alec Durengeo. Unless your skull is thicker then even I imagined, you should have noticed that I have the upper hand. Speaking of sons though, I think you may have heard of my real father, Alfund Griffin?"
"Griffin?! Who is he?" breathed Jardin through the various emotions that smothered him like a blanket.
"The Commander of the Army of United Nobles. In other words, he commands the collective armies of all the cities of Ivalice. He is quickly rising in power as a political figure. Readon plans to make him his right hand man when he takes leadership of the Convocation. Funny we should bring my father up. The poor man was sorely bereaved at the theft of the Holy Sword- I think I should take it back as a token of good will.
"Come now, stop standing around like a pack of idiots. Throw the medallions and sword at my feet, and don't try anything foolish like throwing the sword at me in a violent manner. I am trained to kill with precision and utter lack of mercy. "
Jardin withdrew the silver from his breast and looked up sadly at Romo. "I trusted you, Romalion."
"What, you're getting formal all of the sudden?" sneered the young Griffin.
"'Romo' was a name given in friendship and brotherhood," replied Jardin in the same soft voice. "Now, you're just another enemy, an obstacle between me and my goal."
"Ugh!" sighed Romalion in an exasperated tone, "just give me the medallions and sword and spare me of such weakling sentiments!"
Jardin drew Excalibur from its sheath, gazing once more at the crystalline blade, and tossed it and the medallions to the ground at Romo's boots. The knight snatched up the medallions, gingerly placing them in his pockets, and then grabbed the Holy Sword, but as his hands touched the black leather wrapped about the hilt, the weapon swung forward as if of it's own accord. The blade struck home in the traitor's upper right thigh, lancing the skin with a deep incision, and blood immediately welled forth. Romalion screeched a curse in pain as he lurched backwards, dropping the sword; Jardin saw his chance.
He lunged forward, and struck once, twice, three times at Griffin's jaw with brutally powerful blows, then sweeping Excalibur from the ground he slashed at his midsection. Romo jumped backwards just as the cutting edge swept narrow inches from his belly and bounded out of the room with amazing speed despite a limping right leg. He turned at the doorway, a rivulet of blood running from his lip, and grinned, saying mockingly, "I suppose two out of three isn't bad. Ciao!" and with that, he ran down the hallway and out of sight.
Alec cursed a blue streak, crying, "We're ruined! Readon has the medallions!"
"No!" countered Jardin with sudden vehemence. "I won't accept defeat until my head is forced onto an executioner's block! There's always a chance of victory!"
"I suppose you're right, but the darkness is oppressive," groaned Alec, his head flopping into his hands.
"The first thing we need to do is get back into Ivalice, and establish both a sponsor and a fighting force."
"Back into the lion's den, eh?" quipped Alec. "My mother always said I charged into a situation with reckless abandon, and mother's always right."
Jardin managed a laugh through his tears. "Well Alec, I guess it's just you and me now, huh? We'd better get busy then!" The two young men, weary from the numerous adrenaline rushes and brushes with death they had come through, drug themselves out of the ancient place.
As they emerged, they noticed the workers staring behind them, their eyes blinking. Noticing the newcomers, one exclaimed, "Good lord, man! Your other friend there, he ran out of there, pushing workers out of his way like nobody's business! Went straight for the stable, he did, and grabbed his chocobo, he did, and left like a bolt of thunder, no lie!"
Ignoring the blabbering layman, the two ran toward the stable to do the same. " I know we're both tired," explained Alec, "but time is of the essence. Basically, we only have until they pinpoint the location of the hoard, but that will take time, since almost every mountain in that range has at least one cave that matches the description."
In an hour, they were already well on their way back to Alec's residence. Time passed swiftly, and the chocobos were driven to the brink of exhaustion. Only once did Jardin break the grim disposition with speech. "Did you notice how Excalibur reacted when Romo touched it?" he asked.
Alec nodded, turning his head toward his interrogator. "I could tell you all of that sword's history, if you asked, but for now I'll only say that it ain't called the Holy Sword for nothing. It was forged with the intention that only good would be done with it. As Romo touched it, the sword repelled against his evil intentions as magnets of similar poles resist each other. Unless a wicked man has the strength of will to neutralize this attribute, as I guess this Alfund Griffin to possess, only men with noble goals can wield it."
The rest of the trip was traveled in silence. Since their desperation gave them speed, they reached the shack late that night. "Alright," said Alec. "By this time tomorrow, we'll be on Ivalice soil."
"Hah! Easier said then done!" scoffed Jardin. "If you remember, a friend of mine already died going over the border!"
"Ya know what your problem is, Jardin? You still ain't a believer yet! You are talking to THE Alec Durengeo, and with my unequaled abundance of ancient knowledge, you'll always find a few more options on your plate in any given situation.
"Now this might sound crazy to you or me, but for recreation in the old days, people jumped off cliffs and soared through the air like birds."
"Ugh, Alec, you've officially stepped over the eccentric line in to the completely implausible. People can't fly."
"But they can glide, with the proper equipment of course. And that's how we're crossing the mountains- by using the gliders I've excavated. You just strap yourself into these fabric wings, hang on to a bar, and run off a cliff."
Jardin choked, but before he was able to protest, he found himself being pushed into his bedroom. "We both need to get rest, so good night," Alec concluded abruptly before leaving for his own room.
Nevertheless, sleep was far away as Jardin's mind raced with thought. He wasn't afraid of many things, but defying gravity? On an airship, maybe, but strapping wings onto one's back and hurling one's self off a cliff seemed like suicide. Still, if Alec felt it was the best way to get over, he had better comply. Were it not for Hammer's timely intervention, he would not have made it across the border the first time round. It seemed, then, that it was the best choice. Jardin's brow furled as he imagined the situations a mishap could result in, but he forced his mind any notions of failure. After all, contemplations of this sort were the kind that got people killed. But what would happen should they make it across the border in one piece? Through the rest of the night, he played scenarios of the events that would transpire in Ivalice, occasionally dozing, but never sleeping. Suddenly his bedroom door burst open. Light streamed in, making him squint at the silhouette framed by the doorway.
"Mo-orning," sang the intruder, none other then Alec, in an off-key travesty that could only be described as painful. Shutting the door, Durengeo went off to get himself a cup of coffee from yesterday's brew, leaving Jardin alone to dress.
As Jardin walked down the hall, he winced at the sound of more terrible crooning coming from the kitchen. Stepping through the door, he gawked in disbelief at Alec. The kid was more then a little drunk, propped up on the kitchen counter, coffee pot in hand. It seemed he'd been trying unsuccessfully to pour himself a cup, and the majority of the hot black liquid had collected in a large puddle on the floor. "Well, hey Jerdin!" he hiccuped. "Wouldja like some coffee?"
Alec's head made a dull sploosh as Jardin thrust it yet again inside the wooden bucket filled to the brim with frigid water. "Sober yet?" he asked as he lifted the limp figure to his feet.
"Awwww! Pleash stoppit!"
In went Alec's head for another dunk.
"Ach!" he sputtered. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding!"
Alec got up, tossing his wet hair back. "Ah, now I have to fix my hair again!"
"You should thank me," replied Jardin. "You cut a pretty pathetic drunk. Why'd you go and get wasted anyway?"
Alec opened a drawer in a nearby desk and produced a small cardboard box and a match. Lighting the match on his boot heel, he withdrew a cigarette from the box and slipped it in his mouth, touching the flaming stick of wood to the paper covered tobacco. "Smoke?" he asked clumsily through the cigarette in his mouth, offering the pack.
"No thanks," Jardin rejected, eyeing Durengeo warily. "I didn't know you smoked," he added haltingly.
"Oh, I usually don't, thanks to my cousin. 'Smoking causes this and that and this and that,' he always says. But sometimes you need to throw the crap out the window, know what I'm saying? Basically I only light up when I'm nervous, and let me tell you, I've never been more nervous then I am now. That's why I got drunk last night. We are about to go into enemy territory, and we might die. I thought this was all just a fun game until that sword was held at my throat."
"You don't need to come if you don't want to."
"But you see, I need to come. At least." Alec's voice trailed off as his thoughts took him captive.
"The chocobos are in, right?" groaned the gravely injured Thad Durengeo, turning over in his rudely fashioned stretcher of poles and coats look at his assistant and son, the 12 year old Alec. The lad walked beside him as the workers bore him back to the estate, biting his lip and fighting an onslaught of tears.
"Y-yes, w-we brought them back right after the pulled the rubble from the accident away in the cart," came the weepy reply after a moment.
"Good," sighed the senior, resigning himself back into the gentle fabric of the coats. Alec burst into a fresh set of tears.
"Alec," snapped the father sharply but not cruelly, "You are the master of this dig now. Don't worry, you're uncle and cousin will take ownership of the rest, but you must tend to our special one once I pass on, and crying will not help any problem now or in the future."
"Don't worry dad. You're strong. You'll pull through," said Alec with a surprising brightness, his words reeking of utter naivete.
"Son, you fail to understand the seriousness of that landslide. I have taken a terrible injury."
Alec said nothing, his lower lip quivering and his eyes filling.
"Alec, I want you to become a great archeologist. Twenty years from now I want the history books to say that archeology became a major field of work and study instead of the mystery it is to the public today. I want to know it all started with you. If you're brave and bold, and if I have not greatly misjudged your character, it will happen."
"Y-yessir," managed the youth.
His father gave him a last loving arm squeeze, and Alec stopped, falling to the earth in hysterics. The workers bore the limp Thad past the blubbering boy without so much as a second glance, for haste had now become their mantra. But the father raised his head ever so slightly as to gaze at the adolescent until a deep black sheet spread across his eyes. When the carriers finally reached the mansion and doctor that waited, they found their burden had already been dead for at least ten minutes.
Seven years had passed. Archeology was slightly more renowned in Tabreum, but elsewhere it was the same unknown that it was in the days of Thad Durengeo. Maybe, just maybe this could turn things around. Maybe he could fulfill a father's final charge to his son at last. After all, it was the sole motivation he had for living.
"Yes," confirmed Durengeo, returning to reality. "I will go with you, but I fear we can't do anything against such a staggeringly powerful opponent."
"But there's always a chance!" encouraged Jardin earnestly. "Always!"
"In any case, let's go up to the shack."
The pair did just that, and Alec stopped in front of the dusty table. Two large leather shoulder bags lay there. Alec took a long, slow drag on his cigarette before speaking. "Everything's in order, right? Then grab a bag." As Jardin did so he added with a mysterious grin, "They contain the secret to flight."
At first, Jardin opened his mouth to question, but thought better of it. Let the kid have his game. Instead, he replied quickly, "Where are we going?"
"Tearpoint pass," replied Durengeo easily, blowing a great billow of odorous smoke from slightly parted lips.
Jardin began an unopinionated "Oh," but suddenly shot Alec a double take. "Tearpoint pass?! You idiot, that's the most heavily guarded border pass available!"
Alec coolly eased himself into a chair and dropped his feet on top his desk, crossing his legs and removing the cigarette from his mouth. After he was quite comfortable, he inserted his smoke back into it's previously designated niche between his lips and folded his arms behind his head to act as a pillow. Finally, he closed his eyes and grinned, causing the cigarette to tilt upward at an angle, and said, "Open your mind, Jardin. Did you know before the border there's an excellent cliff?"
And Jardin shut up with a knowing smirk.
The wind whipped the two traveler's clothing about their skin. Alec laughed at the hearty breeze, and took a slurp at his index finger with his tongue.
"Directly southwest." he mused. "That should take us directly over Hawkwood Hallow- a foresty area. I looked at some wind charts I borrowed from my cousin, and it said that there's a dangerous updraft this time of year because of a combo of the weather and terrain." Upon finishing his thoughts, he knelt back down to the mass of fabric and wooden framed he'd been working on.
"Duly noted and stored away," replied Jardin, who was trying to figure out what the nature of an updraft wind exactly was. The Ivalician education system was very shoddy, focusing on history and basic math, literature, and grammar. Even in the enhanced training nobles received, science was rarely ever looked at, and if it was, the physics of wind was not the subject.
Instead of asking about it, he instead inquired, "You're sure it was ok to let the chocobos go?"
"They know they way back, and I told Z-83 to stable them."
"I meant that we might need them if this doesn't work. But then again, we'll be dead if this doesn't work."
"Oh, it'll work. You can trust me in that respect," Alec nodded confidently. "And, I believe I'm finished!"
So it seemed. Jardin ogled at the two great structures Alec had put together. From a complex framework located in the middle, a steel bar protruded within easy reach. On top of the frame was hung a lavender, bat- like canvas carefully cut for a total wingspan of around fifteen feet.
Alec helped Jardin strap himself to the device before preparing his own. Indeed, to Jardin they looked extremely ridiculous, and he couldn't see how this extra weight would help them defy gravity.
Alec breathed once, and then suddenly took off for the edge. He leapt straight off, grabbing at the steel bar and leveling his body out. Unbelievably, the wind caught him and he soared directly southwest at an impressive speed. Jardin suddenly felt pain and realized he'd been gnawing on his lower lip in nervousness. Gulping, he prepared to take the plunge himself. He ran toward the drop, trying to mimic Alec in every way possible. The space between himself and the ledge decreased too quickly for comfort; he jumped, letting out a terrified scream. Instead of plunging to a grisly death, however, to his wonderment the wind lifted him up and propelled him forward. Nothing could have prepared him for the exhilaration of that moment- the wind wiping past him in an entirely pleasant manner, the somewhat unsettling sight of the ground hundreds of feet below him, and the mere notion that he was actually breaking nature's rules (to his mind, anyway)- he'd never felt anything like it before. Jardin let out a whoop of triumph, and then, looking forward, he saw Alec in the distance. He seemed to be pulling something, and what ever he was doing, it was slowing him down. Soon he was next to Jardin once again, and shouting over the roar of the wind, he hollered, "Careful! We're almost over Hawkwood Hallow, and-" suddenly Jardin's glider gave a shocking lurch upward, and a great gust of wind slammed against his chest.
Screams welled in his throat, but the ever-persistent wind squelched any such notion. Jardin's eyes bulged as his glider wheeled out of control. He could hear Alec screaming out instructions mixed with random profanity, but it seemed far away and obscure. The ground became progressively closer, and his craft was heading straight for the center of a sprawling green forest. He looked back, and saw Alec swooping after him. Suddenly he plunged into the trees, bouncing off a branch and plummeting to the floor. The wings seemed to be slowing his fall- he halt for a moment, then fall again. The wings would catch between two trees, but his weight would always proved too much and down again he'd go. Finally, he hit the ground and slipped into the now-familiar state of unconsciousness.
As Alec neared the forest, he began to fiddle with the straps that held him to the gliding craft. Just before the hit the leaves, he ditched the glider with a jump. Grabbing onto a tree branch for dear life, he slung his body on top into a safe perch in the tree. Then he made his way down the trunk to a branch near the forest floor, where he saw the limp form of Jardin.
"Stupid! Idiot!" he scolded himself viciously. "I should have given him better instructions!"
He hopped from the branch to the ground, where he hurried over to the prostrate form and checked his pulse. "Well, he's alive at least," he muttered. Suddenly, he gave a start. Shadows emerged from behind the trees and bushes. He heard distinctly the sounds of drawn blades, and taut longbow strings.
Alec drew his guns uneasily, vowing to not let them get to Jardin's body without a price.
A leader strode forward. It seemed at first that he was unarmed, but then it became obviously clear through his body build and almost haughty gait that his fist were just as deadly as a well forged sword. He wore a leather jerkin adorned with green silk and a baggy pair of forest brown pants that were tucked smartly into well cut brown boots. A scant goatee curled comically around his lips, and his jet-black hair fell across either side of his head down to his jaw. He first looked at Alec with a curious stare, then down to Jardin, whose head was now split with a nasty cut. He choked, staggered backwards into a tree, and then, containing himself, laughed.
Light slowly poured into Jardin's eyes. Images blurry at first but increasingly sharp by the second were the visions that greeted the long benumbed soldier. As his head cleared, he realized he was lying in a huge, hollowed-out tree stump filled with heather and blankets. The next thing he became aware of was the presence of a linen cloth wrapped around his head like a headband. Fingering the cloth, he saw that it covered an angled cut on his forehead. As he did so, he laughed, realizing that it was deep, and it intersected with the older scar that graced his brow. Forever more, he would have a brown X on his face, a fact which bemused him. Suddenly, a door to his right opened, and Alec walked in. Just as Jardin greeted him, a taller young man, about Alec's age, strode in as well. Jardn's jaw instantly went slack.
"Long time, no see, brother!" said the newcomer.
Joy, dread, and anticipation consumed Jardin all at once. "J-Jezrel!" he gasped.
Jardin wanted to laugh, to slap Romo on the back and congratulate him on his successful joke, but he knew that cold steel didn't lie.
"I suppose you want some sort of. explanation on my sudden betrayal," Romo said nonchalantly with an irregular tone of bravado in his voice. "Now Jardin, did you not find it more then passing strange that one so important to the Convocation should be sent to war, where he could be killed or otherwise incapacitated?"
"T-the thought had entered my mind," Jardin faltered in his shock.
"Oh, you should have seen Readon when he found that you'd seen that bounty hunter contract on his desk. I thought he'd kill you on the spot! But you were dangerously close to discovering the plot before they had cultivated the necessities from you, so they sent you away. I was told to join the army with you, befriend you, and make sure no serious harm came to you."
"You work for them? You were my bodyguard?"
"In a word, yes. My assignment was to keep you alive and well. Now my instructions have changed slightly. During our leave in Igros, which had nothing to do with your military accomplishments but was arranged so we could acquire the necessary information from you, I consulted with the scholar in charge of our research. Of course, the only thing his department was assigned to was the Zanzira hoard. He told me about their recent findings, that one needed two medallions and that you, of all people, possessed one. I knew my new assignment without even consulting my superiors- to stay with you until you found both medallions."
"You deceitful scoundrel!" roared Jardin, his voice brimming with anger, shock, and anguish.
"Hey, don't blame me! Blame yourself or God," shrugged Romo, not knowing that years later another young knight would mimic those very words.
"Funny time to bring up God, in a pagan temple devoted to a murderous deity of war," scowled Alec, furious at the treachery. "But if I remember rightly, wasn't your father killed by Readon's men? How does that fit in?"
"Oh," sniggered the betrayer wickedly, "I forgot about old Descarei. I killed the fool myself. Don't look at me like that! I'm not patricidal! He wasn't my father, but he was ordered to lodge me under threat of death by torture. On the night Jardin overheard Readon, I stabbed Mr. Descarei, who had made critical comments of the Convocation in a popular tavern, and threw him outside. At that moment soldiers came to escort me back to the castle, but then I saw you, Jardin, running down the road. Thinking quickly, I rubbed a bit of the old man's blood on my face for effect and killed the nearest soldier. The others, of course, were rather shocked, and one even crossed swords with me, but then you came. A belated thank you for helping me out in that little misunderstanding."
"You threatened a man with death if he didn't comply with your demands and then you killed him anyway?" blinked Alec. "That is low!"
"Considering his options, a katana to the back is an absolutely delightful alternative to the long, slow arts of torture we've developed. His reward was not dying a traitor's death like he deserved."
"You son of a-"
"Oh, I'd be careful on how you speak to me, Alec Durengeo. Unless your skull is thicker then even I imagined, you should have noticed that I have the upper hand. Speaking of sons though, I think you may have heard of my real father, Alfund Griffin?"
"Griffin?! Who is he?" breathed Jardin through the various emotions that smothered him like a blanket.
"The Commander of the Army of United Nobles. In other words, he commands the collective armies of all the cities of Ivalice. He is quickly rising in power as a political figure. Readon plans to make him his right hand man when he takes leadership of the Convocation. Funny we should bring my father up. The poor man was sorely bereaved at the theft of the Holy Sword- I think I should take it back as a token of good will.
"Come now, stop standing around like a pack of idiots. Throw the medallions and sword at my feet, and don't try anything foolish like throwing the sword at me in a violent manner. I am trained to kill with precision and utter lack of mercy. "
Jardin withdrew the silver from his breast and looked up sadly at Romo. "I trusted you, Romalion."
"What, you're getting formal all of the sudden?" sneered the young Griffin.
"'Romo' was a name given in friendship and brotherhood," replied Jardin in the same soft voice. "Now, you're just another enemy, an obstacle between me and my goal."
"Ugh!" sighed Romalion in an exasperated tone, "just give me the medallions and sword and spare me of such weakling sentiments!"
Jardin drew Excalibur from its sheath, gazing once more at the crystalline blade, and tossed it and the medallions to the ground at Romo's boots. The knight snatched up the medallions, gingerly placing them in his pockets, and then grabbed the Holy Sword, but as his hands touched the black leather wrapped about the hilt, the weapon swung forward as if of it's own accord. The blade struck home in the traitor's upper right thigh, lancing the skin with a deep incision, and blood immediately welled forth. Romalion screeched a curse in pain as he lurched backwards, dropping the sword; Jardin saw his chance.
He lunged forward, and struck once, twice, three times at Griffin's jaw with brutally powerful blows, then sweeping Excalibur from the ground he slashed at his midsection. Romo jumped backwards just as the cutting edge swept narrow inches from his belly and bounded out of the room with amazing speed despite a limping right leg. He turned at the doorway, a rivulet of blood running from his lip, and grinned, saying mockingly, "I suppose two out of three isn't bad. Ciao!" and with that, he ran down the hallway and out of sight.
Alec cursed a blue streak, crying, "We're ruined! Readon has the medallions!"
"No!" countered Jardin with sudden vehemence. "I won't accept defeat until my head is forced onto an executioner's block! There's always a chance of victory!"
"I suppose you're right, but the darkness is oppressive," groaned Alec, his head flopping into his hands.
"The first thing we need to do is get back into Ivalice, and establish both a sponsor and a fighting force."
"Back into the lion's den, eh?" quipped Alec. "My mother always said I charged into a situation with reckless abandon, and mother's always right."
Jardin managed a laugh through his tears. "Well Alec, I guess it's just you and me now, huh? We'd better get busy then!" The two young men, weary from the numerous adrenaline rushes and brushes with death they had come through, drug themselves out of the ancient place.
As they emerged, they noticed the workers staring behind them, their eyes blinking. Noticing the newcomers, one exclaimed, "Good lord, man! Your other friend there, he ran out of there, pushing workers out of his way like nobody's business! Went straight for the stable, he did, and grabbed his chocobo, he did, and left like a bolt of thunder, no lie!"
Ignoring the blabbering layman, the two ran toward the stable to do the same. " I know we're both tired," explained Alec, "but time is of the essence. Basically, we only have until they pinpoint the location of the hoard, but that will take time, since almost every mountain in that range has at least one cave that matches the description."
In an hour, they were already well on their way back to Alec's residence. Time passed swiftly, and the chocobos were driven to the brink of exhaustion. Only once did Jardin break the grim disposition with speech. "Did you notice how Excalibur reacted when Romo touched it?" he asked.
Alec nodded, turning his head toward his interrogator. "I could tell you all of that sword's history, if you asked, but for now I'll only say that it ain't called the Holy Sword for nothing. It was forged with the intention that only good would be done with it. As Romo touched it, the sword repelled against his evil intentions as magnets of similar poles resist each other. Unless a wicked man has the strength of will to neutralize this attribute, as I guess this Alfund Griffin to possess, only men with noble goals can wield it."
The rest of the trip was traveled in silence. Since their desperation gave them speed, they reached the shack late that night. "Alright," said Alec. "By this time tomorrow, we'll be on Ivalice soil."
"Hah! Easier said then done!" scoffed Jardin. "If you remember, a friend of mine already died going over the border!"
"Ya know what your problem is, Jardin? You still ain't a believer yet! You are talking to THE Alec Durengeo, and with my unequaled abundance of ancient knowledge, you'll always find a few more options on your plate in any given situation.
"Now this might sound crazy to you or me, but for recreation in the old days, people jumped off cliffs and soared through the air like birds."
"Ugh, Alec, you've officially stepped over the eccentric line in to the completely implausible. People can't fly."
"But they can glide, with the proper equipment of course. And that's how we're crossing the mountains- by using the gliders I've excavated. You just strap yourself into these fabric wings, hang on to a bar, and run off a cliff."
Jardin choked, but before he was able to protest, he found himself being pushed into his bedroom. "We both need to get rest, so good night," Alec concluded abruptly before leaving for his own room.
Nevertheless, sleep was far away as Jardin's mind raced with thought. He wasn't afraid of many things, but defying gravity? On an airship, maybe, but strapping wings onto one's back and hurling one's self off a cliff seemed like suicide. Still, if Alec felt it was the best way to get over, he had better comply. Were it not for Hammer's timely intervention, he would not have made it across the border the first time round. It seemed, then, that it was the best choice. Jardin's brow furled as he imagined the situations a mishap could result in, but he forced his mind any notions of failure. After all, contemplations of this sort were the kind that got people killed. But what would happen should they make it across the border in one piece? Through the rest of the night, he played scenarios of the events that would transpire in Ivalice, occasionally dozing, but never sleeping. Suddenly his bedroom door burst open. Light streamed in, making him squint at the silhouette framed by the doorway.
"Mo-orning," sang the intruder, none other then Alec, in an off-key travesty that could only be described as painful. Shutting the door, Durengeo went off to get himself a cup of coffee from yesterday's brew, leaving Jardin alone to dress.
As Jardin walked down the hall, he winced at the sound of more terrible crooning coming from the kitchen. Stepping through the door, he gawked in disbelief at Alec. The kid was more then a little drunk, propped up on the kitchen counter, coffee pot in hand. It seemed he'd been trying unsuccessfully to pour himself a cup, and the majority of the hot black liquid had collected in a large puddle on the floor. "Well, hey Jerdin!" he hiccuped. "Wouldja like some coffee?"
Alec's head made a dull sploosh as Jardin thrust it yet again inside the wooden bucket filled to the brim with frigid water. "Sober yet?" he asked as he lifted the limp figure to his feet.
"Awwww! Pleash stoppit!"
In went Alec's head for another dunk.
"Ach!" he sputtered. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding!"
Alec got up, tossing his wet hair back. "Ah, now I have to fix my hair again!"
"You should thank me," replied Jardin. "You cut a pretty pathetic drunk. Why'd you go and get wasted anyway?"
Alec opened a drawer in a nearby desk and produced a small cardboard box and a match. Lighting the match on his boot heel, he withdrew a cigarette from the box and slipped it in his mouth, touching the flaming stick of wood to the paper covered tobacco. "Smoke?" he asked clumsily through the cigarette in his mouth, offering the pack.
"No thanks," Jardin rejected, eyeing Durengeo warily. "I didn't know you smoked," he added haltingly.
"Oh, I usually don't, thanks to my cousin. 'Smoking causes this and that and this and that,' he always says. But sometimes you need to throw the crap out the window, know what I'm saying? Basically I only light up when I'm nervous, and let me tell you, I've never been more nervous then I am now. That's why I got drunk last night. We are about to go into enemy territory, and we might die. I thought this was all just a fun game until that sword was held at my throat."
"You don't need to come if you don't want to."
"But you see, I need to come. At least." Alec's voice trailed off as his thoughts took him captive.
"The chocobos are in, right?" groaned the gravely injured Thad Durengeo, turning over in his rudely fashioned stretcher of poles and coats look at his assistant and son, the 12 year old Alec. The lad walked beside him as the workers bore him back to the estate, biting his lip and fighting an onslaught of tears.
"Y-yes, w-we brought them back right after the pulled the rubble from the accident away in the cart," came the weepy reply after a moment.
"Good," sighed the senior, resigning himself back into the gentle fabric of the coats. Alec burst into a fresh set of tears.
"Alec," snapped the father sharply but not cruelly, "You are the master of this dig now. Don't worry, you're uncle and cousin will take ownership of the rest, but you must tend to our special one once I pass on, and crying will not help any problem now or in the future."
"Don't worry dad. You're strong. You'll pull through," said Alec with a surprising brightness, his words reeking of utter naivete.
"Son, you fail to understand the seriousness of that landslide. I have taken a terrible injury."
Alec said nothing, his lower lip quivering and his eyes filling.
"Alec, I want you to become a great archeologist. Twenty years from now I want the history books to say that archeology became a major field of work and study instead of the mystery it is to the public today. I want to know it all started with you. If you're brave and bold, and if I have not greatly misjudged your character, it will happen."
"Y-yessir," managed the youth.
His father gave him a last loving arm squeeze, and Alec stopped, falling to the earth in hysterics. The workers bore the limp Thad past the blubbering boy without so much as a second glance, for haste had now become their mantra. But the father raised his head ever so slightly as to gaze at the adolescent until a deep black sheet spread across his eyes. When the carriers finally reached the mansion and doctor that waited, they found their burden had already been dead for at least ten minutes.
Seven years had passed. Archeology was slightly more renowned in Tabreum, but elsewhere it was the same unknown that it was in the days of Thad Durengeo. Maybe, just maybe this could turn things around. Maybe he could fulfill a father's final charge to his son at last. After all, it was the sole motivation he had for living.
"Yes," confirmed Durengeo, returning to reality. "I will go with you, but I fear we can't do anything against such a staggeringly powerful opponent."
"But there's always a chance!" encouraged Jardin earnestly. "Always!"
"In any case, let's go up to the shack."
The pair did just that, and Alec stopped in front of the dusty table. Two large leather shoulder bags lay there. Alec took a long, slow drag on his cigarette before speaking. "Everything's in order, right? Then grab a bag." As Jardin did so he added with a mysterious grin, "They contain the secret to flight."
At first, Jardin opened his mouth to question, but thought better of it. Let the kid have his game. Instead, he replied quickly, "Where are we going?"
"Tearpoint pass," replied Durengeo easily, blowing a great billow of odorous smoke from slightly parted lips.
Jardin began an unopinionated "Oh," but suddenly shot Alec a double take. "Tearpoint pass?! You idiot, that's the most heavily guarded border pass available!"
Alec coolly eased himself into a chair and dropped his feet on top his desk, crossing his legs and removing the cigarette from his mouth. After he was quite comfortable, he inserted his smoke back into it's previously designated niche between his lips and folded his arms behind his head to act as a pillow. Finally, he closed his eyes and grinned, causing the cigarette to tilt upward at an angle, and said, "Open your mind, Jardin. Did you know before the border there's an excellent cliff?"
And Jardin shut up with a knowing smirk.
The wind whipped the two traveler's clothing about their skin. Alec laughed at the hearty breeze, and took a slurp at his index finger with his tongue.
"Directly southwest." he mused. "That should take us directly over Hawkwood Hallow- a foresty area. I looked at some wind charts I borrowed from my cousin, and it said that there's a dangerous updraft this time of year because of a combo of the weather and terrain." Upon finishing his thoughts, he knelt back down to the mass of fabric and wooden framed he'd been working on.
"Duly noted and stored away," replied Jardin, who was trying to figure out what the nature of an updraft wind exactly was. The Ivalician education system was very shoddy, focusing on history and basic math, literature, and grammar. Even in the enhanced training nobles received, science was rarely ever looked at, and if it was, the physics of wind was not the subject.
Instead of asking about it, he instead inquired, "You're sure it was ok to let the chocobos go?"
"They know they way back, and I told Z-83 to stable them."
"I meant that we might need them if this doesn't work. But then again, we'll be dead if this doesn't work."
"Oh, it'll work. You can trust me in that respect," Alec nodded confidently. "And, I believe I'm finished!"
So it seemed. Jardin ogled at the two great structures Alec had put together. From a complex framework located in the middle, a steel bar protruded within easy reach. On top of the frame was hung a lavender, bat- like canvas carefully cut for a total wingspan of around fifteen feet.
Alec helped Jardin strap himself to the device before preparing his own. Indeed, to Jardin they looked extremely ridiculous, and he couldn't see how this extra weight would help them defy gravity.
Alec breathed once, and then suddenly took off for the edge. He leapt straight off, grabbing at the steel bar and leveling his body out. Unbelievably, the wind caught him and he soared directly southwest at an impressive speed. Jardin suddenly felt pain and realized he'd been gnawing on his lower lip in nervousness. Gulping, he prepared to take the plunge himself. He ran toward the drop, trying to mimic Alec in every way possible. The space between himself and the ledge decreased too quickly for comfort; he jumped, letting out a terrified scream. Instead of plunging to a grisly death, however, to his wonderment the wind lifted him up and propelled him forward. Nothing could have prepared him for the exhilaration of that moment- the wind wiping past him in an entirely pleasant manner, the somewhat unsettling sight of the ground hundreds of feet below him, and the mere notion that he was actually breaking nature's rules (to his mind, anyway)- he'd never felt anything like it before. Jardin let out a whoop of triumph, and then, looking forward, he saw Alec in the distance. He seemed to be pulling something, and what ever he was doing, it was slowing him down. Soon he was next to Jardin once again, and shouting over the roar of the wind, he hollered, "Careful! We're almost over Hawkwood Hallow, and-" suddenly Jardin's glider gave a shocking lurch upward, and a great gust of wind slammed against his chest.
Screams welled in his throat, but the ever-persistent wind squelched any such notion. Jardin's eyes bulged as his glider wheeled out of control. He could hear Alec screaming out instructions mixed with random profanity, but it seemed far away and obscure. The ground became progressively closer, and his craft was heading straight for the center of a sprawling green forest. He looked back, and saw Alec swooping after him. Suddenly he plunged into the trees, bouncing off a branch and plummeting to the floor. The wings seemed to be slowing his fall- he halt for a moment, then fall again. The wings would catch between two trees, but his weight would always proved too much and down again he'd go. Finally, he hit the ground and slipped into the now-familiar state of unconsciousness.
As Alec neared the forest, he began to fiddle with the straps that held him to the gliding craft. Just before the hit the leaves, he ditched the glider with a jump. Grabbing onto a tree branch for dear life, he slung his body on top into a safe perch in the tree. Then he made his way down the trunk to a branch near the forest floor, where he saw the limp form of Jardin.
"Stupid! Idiot!" he scolded himself viciously. "I should have given him better instructions!"
He hopped from the branch to the ground, where he hurried over to the prostrate form and checked his pulse. "Well, he's alive at least," he muttered. Suddenly, he gave a start. Shadows emerged from behind the trees and bushes. He heard distinctly the sounds of drawn blades, and taut longbow strings.
Alec drew his guns uneasily, vowing to not let them get to Jardin's body without a price.
A leader strode forward. It seemed at first that he was unarmed, but then it became obviously clear through his body build and almost haughty gait that his fist were just as deadly as a well forged sword. He wore a leather jerkin adorned with green silk and a baggy pair of forest brown pants that were tucked smartly into well cut brown boots. A scant goatee curled comically around his lips, and his jet-black hair fell across either side of his head down to his jaw. He first looked at Alec with a curious stare, then down to Jardin, whose head was now split with a nasty cut. He choked, staggered backwards into a tree, and then, containing himself, laughed.
Light slowly poured into Jardin's eyes. Images blurry at first but increasingly sharp by the second were the visions that greeted the long benumbed soldier. As his head cleared, he realized he was lying in a huge, hollowed-out tree stump filled with heather and blankets. The next thing he became aware of was the presence of a linen cloth wrapped around his head like a headband. Fingering the cloth, he saw that it covered an angled cut on his forehead. As he did so, he laughed, realizing that it was deep, and it intersected with the older scar that graced his brow. Forever more, he would have a brown X on his face, a fact which bemused him. Suddenly, a door to his right opened, and Alec walked in. Just as Jardin greeted him, a taller young man, about Alec's age, strode in as well. Jardn's jaw instantly went slack.
"Long time, no see, brother!" said the newcomer.
Joy, dread, and anticipation consumed Jardin all at once. "J-Jezrel!" he gasped.
