Braska's Journey
Macalania – Chapter Four – Revelations
Auron was uneasy. Braska was leading the party and Jecht had taken rear guard. The warrior didn't like it one bit. His shoulder still ached, his chest was badly bruised, and he felt like a complete and utter failure.
//I almost got my Summoner killed. Now he's traveling too soon because of my bad temper. That and Jecht's atrocious behavior…//
Frowning, the warrior scanned the white horizon closely for movement. It was difficult. Lack of cloud cover made for high glare off the snow and visibility was not good as a result. Auron knew that, in his condition, he was almost useless in a fight. He might be able to fling a few knives or even strike something with his tanto, but even that was questionable. While Braska could always call his Aeon to defend them, he could only do it a few times before it drained him and he required sleep or some kind of potion to boost his stamina. Without Auron's huge blade, the party no longer had the ability to pierce the thick hide of some of the tougher creatures that hunted the snowdrifts. Jecht was accurate with the blitzball, but wasn't going to be taking out anything heftier than a wasp or an evil eye. It made him nervous.
Jecht stuck close. Braska had insisted that the group could handle any problems that might arise and had ordered Auron into the center of the party. The blitzer could tell by the set of Auron's shoulders that the warrior was unhappy with the directive. He couldn't really blame the guy. Jecht knew he'd already shown he wasn't worth a damn in a fight. He'd also made an ass of himself back at the inn. As usual, he was regretting his drunken actions and didn't know how to make up for them. With his wife, it was easy. He got her flowers, romanced her, took her to dinner, and declared he'd never do it again. With Braska, he didn't know what to do. So, he didn't do anything and just tried to keep his eyes – and mind – on the horizon.
The group hiked along the frozen surface of Lake Macalania. A strong wind blew over the ice, drifting loose snow and cutting through the clothing the men wore. Jecht, barefoot and not wearing much, shivered but said nothing. He'd insisted he didn't need a cloak or shoes back at the shop and he wasn't about to admit he was wrong.
"Auron," Braska called over his shoulder, "Is that the trail?" He pointed to a gap in the snowdrifts.
"Yes, Lord," Auron replied. "I should take point since I know the way."
Braska stopped and faced the warrior. He said sternly, "Auron, you are still recovering. That is not acceptable. I am sure I can manage to lead us down an obvious path."
Jecht's eyebrows rose. He was standing just behind Auron and doing his best to pretend he wasn't listening.
Auron tried to ignore the comment of his Summoner. "Lord Braska, we should not be stopping like this." The warrior stepped to the side and made to strike out down the path ahead of his charge.
The Summoner extended his arm, staff in hand, and blocked Auron's passage. "Auron, you are being stubborn and have continually tried to ignore my suggestions regarding your recovery. You will do me no good if you re-injure yourself or get yourself killed." Braska was visibly frustrated. It was clear he'd had enough of Auron's behavior and wasn't going to tolerate it any longer.
The two stared at one another. Jecht hadn't been around them long, but had seen several moments like this. It always felt a bit awkward. Braska had told him that they couldn't read each other's minds – but it sure looked like that way. Both men were clearly not giving an inch and it was starting to get uncomfortable. Jecht realized Auron was probably right – they shouldn't be standing in the open like this – and tried to ignore the scene by keeping an eye out. He didn't know what he was looking for, but by god, it wasn't going to sneak up on him like last time.
Finally, Jecht decided to do something. "Uh, guys. I know I'm not part of the conversation here, but I got somethin' ta say."
Auron and Braska turned to look at Jecht. He rubbed at his neck a bit and rolled his head to the side. "These packs are damn heavy and I got no idea what I'm lookin' for. So, if ya'd drop the stand off I'd appreciate it."
Both men looked a bit sheepish at having Jecht remind them of the seriousness of the situation. Braska smiled and started to laugh. "Yes, Jecht. I see your point," he responded. Reaching out with his free arm he said pointedly, "I will take Auron's pack for a while and continue to lead." The last part was directed at Auron and was accompanied by a stern look that said Braska would brook no further argument.
The warrior just stood there and grunted while Jecht handed over the pack. Braska turned and started down the pathway without another word. The blitzer waited for the sulking Auron to follow and then loped along behind.
Unfortunately, the conversation had already done its damage. Not far into the crevice, fiends set upon the group. Auron heard the growl of the snow wolf and turned toward the sound. They never assaulted alone. "Lord!" Auron called out to Braska.
Turning, the Summoner watched as two evil eyes flew over the ridge to join the advancing wolf. Braska frowned in concern. Moving swiftly, he positioned himself in front of Auron and said, "Jecht, try for one of the flyers. We need to prevent them from casting magic!"
Jecht nodded and dropped the pack. Auron's sword was strapped to his back. It was bulky, cumbersome, and slowed him a bit.
~~How the hell does Auron wear this thing all the time?~~
Hauling back, Jecht let the ball fly and solidly struck the eye on the left. While it didn't take out the fiend, it did wound and blind the creature. It shrieked.
Braska nodded and extended his staff horizontally before him; prepared to cast a spell. Auron stopped him "Target the wolf, Braska. I can take the other one."
No sooner had he spoken the words but two knives flew past Braska's head toward their target. One sliced into a wing and the other embedded in the flying orb's huge eye to blind it. The Summoner quickly turned his attention to the snow wolf. Chanting, Braska swept the head of his staff toward the fiend and fire encased the creature. It yelped as the flames singed its fur.
All three monsters had taken significant damage but were still alive to fight. The wolf charged toward Auron - its sense of smell telling it the man was injured. Braska saw the direction of the attack and stepped between the fiend and its target. Rising on its powerful hindquarters, the wolf lunged at Braska and raked its claws into his body. A shout of pain escaped the Summoner and he dropped to his knees as the fiend retreated.
Rage flooded Auron. He was angry with Braska for getting himself hurt. He was frustrated that he was practically helpless, and he was furious with the creatures in front of him. Unsheathing his tanto, he bolted forward and attempted to finish off the wolf. It was too fast for him and jumped backward. Grunting from his effort, Auron returned to Braska and tried to help him.
Jecht realized when Auron couldn't get the wolf that it was going to be down to him unless Braska called the Aeon. He set his jaw and decided to use a little style to take care of things. Slipping the heavy sword from its place on his back, he dropped the ball in front of his right foot and started the Jecht Shot.
~~If it works in the water, it'll work here, right?~~
Contacting the ball solidly, it soared out and struck the eye on the left with a loud crack. It dissipated in a cry of pyreflies and Jecht's face lit up in a self-satisfied smile.
~~Yeah! I can do this!~~
The ball flew back toward the sender and with astounding accuracy; Jecht slammed the thing with an upraised fist. Again, the ball flew forward toward a target. This time, it was the wolf. The ball smacked it senseless and it yipped before it began to come undone.
"Sweet!" Jecht exclaimed. "Now for the score…"
Sailing back once more, the ball launched upward into the air. Jumping after it, Jecht rotated as he thrust himself into the sky. Auron and Braska both watched in shock as the man seemed to hover in the heavens. The ball speed toward him and Jecht's rotation slowed. A foot shot out and connected with the round object with a resounding boom. The remaining evil eye was done for. The ball slammed into the fiend as the blitzer dropped back to the ground - pyreflies escaping its now useless form and Auron's knives clinking to the ground.
Landing in a crouch, Jecht's hand shot out to his right and the ball slapped into the extended appendage. "Take that," he said with finality.
Auron and Braska blinked at Jecht in amazement. Recovering himself, Braska said, "Jecht, thank you."
The blitzer shrugged casually and brushed it off. "No problem." He picked up the packs and put them on his shoulder. "How 'bout we get the hell outa here?"
Narrowing his eyes, Auron looked at Jecht thoughtfully. Then, he turned his attention to his Lord. "Braska, can you continue? Do you need help?"
The Summoner shook his head and adjusted the helm that had gone askew. Clasping his staff between his hands, he chanted and cast Cure upon himself – bathing his body in blue light. When he was finished he looked up at the now standing Auron who extended his hand downward. Smiling he took the offered help and got to his feet. "Well. It seems we managed quite nicely," he said, as he dusted the snow off his robes.
"Hn." Auron responded. He walked over and picked up the knives. Checking them for damage, he spun them in his fingers and then slipped them into their holders. "I would not call you being injured 'managing it nicely.' However, we did manage." He nodded respectfully in Jecht's direction and said, "I will stay with Lord Braska while you cover the rear."
Jecht blinked a bit as the pair turned and started to walk away. He'd expected to get a little bit of praise, or at least a 'thanks,' out of Auron and got what he considered to be nothing. If he'd known Auron better, he might have realized how significant the comment he received was. Auron had just trusted Jecht to cover his back and that of his Summoner. There was no greater honor the warrior could have given him.
The implication of the statement wasn't lost on Braska, however. It pleased him and it was all he could do not to say something. But, Braska didn't need to say anything and he knew it. The Call would take care of that for him and save the warrior embarrassment.
**Good. It is a step forward. Perhaps they will work it out after all.**
Setting out again, the group walked down the pathway. The fissure that ran the length of the snowpack was crossable in two locations by walkways of ice. Auron suggested they take the one at the far end, as the path on the other side was narrow and a bit more treacherous. Smarting at a perceived slight, Jecht hung back and followed along without comment.
After a while, Jecht's simmer of irritation became downright fuming. Knowing it would get him nowhere; he tried to take his mind off the man in red that walked ahead of him. He started to whistle.
The noise carried quite well in the narrow cleft. It started off with a few random notes and then quickly resolved itself into a tune. It was Jecht's favorite. An old woman who'd been a foster guardian for a time taught it to him. She used to sing it when she made him lunch – grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. The song always made him feel safe and warm, just like the woman had before they'd moved him somewhere else. Once, after he'd run away, he went back and tried to find her. The house had been empty.
But, Jecht still had his happy memories of warm comfort food and a sweet old woman. Right now, he needed some warm feelings because he was cold – damn cold! His feet were numb and the swirling wind was blowing up the wide legs of his long shorts. It wasn't very comfortable. To top it off, he was irritated with Auron and really wanted a bit of satisfaction in that regard. More than a bit off pitch, he started to actually sing the words. Completely lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice that Braska and Auron had stopped walking and turned to stare at him. He practically ran into Auron.
"What?!" Jecht started when he saw the pair at a halt. He was sure something must have been getting ready to attack. He dropped the packs, flicked ball into his hand and spun – looking for a target. There wasn't one.
Feeling a little foolish, Jecht turned back around and said, "What gives?"
Auron had a strange look on his face. His voice was a bit abrupt. "Where did you learn that song?"
Jecht didn't get it. "Whaddaya mean?"
"That song you were singing. Where did you learn it?" The volume of Auron's voice rose a bit with the demand for information.
"Auron," Braska turned his head and looked pointedly at his Guardian. Turning his attention back to the blitzer, he said in a placid voice, "Jecht, we are simply curious to know where you learned that tune. I'm sure Auron meant no offence in the way he asked."
Blinking, Jecht replied, "Some old lady taught it to me when I was a kid. Always liked it. There a problem?"
"No. Not at all, Jecht," Braska said. "Did it have name in Zanarkand?" The Summoner was fascinated and highly curious.
"I dunno." The blitzer scratched his head and shrugged. "Is this a good time ta be askin' me this?"
Auron was staring at Jecht like he'd grown an extra limb. "Are you saying that the song has no significance to you?"
"Look, man, I don't know what your issue is, but I'm getting' pretty sick of it," Jecht growled at Auron. He leaned down and picked the packs up off the snow. "I just said that I like the damn song. What's your problem?"
Braska looked back and forth between Jecht and Auron. The situation was deteriorating rapidly, but Braska was intent. This was the first true link he'd found between the world of Spira and that of Jecht's Zanarkand.
**This is it. I've found the key. Now, what does it unlock?**
Stepping toward Jecht, Braska reached out and took one of the packs from him. "I apologize, Jecht. It is just…that song…it is sacred here. When you enter the temple, you will hear it. Every temple in Spira is filled with the sound of that song – The Hymn of the Fayth."
Jecht was stunned. "What?"
Smiling, Braska shouldered the pack and moved to stand beside Jecht. He put a hand to his back and started to guide him forward. "You will see," he said.
Auron wasn't sure what to think. Since he'd met Jecht a few days ago, he had been certain of only one thing – the man was not what he appeared to be. He was odd. Something wasn't quite right about him. He didn't necessarily believe, like Braska, that he was from Zanarkand; but it was obvious the man wasn't from any part of Spira Auron was familiar with. His manner of dress, his lack of knowledge about the Church, his surprise at the use of magic, and his shock when faced with fiends could not be explained away. Had it been toxin stress, Jecht wouldn't have known his own name. He certainly couldn't have come up with such elaborate stories. Now, suddenly, the man was singing the Hymn. Auron was starting to wonder if Jecht was simply a master at lying. Playacting didn't make sense either. Why would Jecht want to do something like that? Yet, Auron could make no sense of the situation. He was totally at a loss and he simply refused to believe that Jecht could really be from Zanarkand. If he believed that, he had to believe that someone - or something - had sent Jecht to Bevelle. He had to believe that his God had sent an unruly, uncouth, heathen, drunk of a blitzball player to be a divine representative. Auron just couldn't fit that kind of possibility into his worldview.
"Auron, are you coming?"
The warrior shook his head and realized that Braska and Jecht were about to cross the ice bridge to the other side of the fissure. The Summoner was looking at him and waiting for a response.
//I just don't understand.//
Putting the disturbing thoughts from his mind, Auron moved to join the pair and they walked, single file, across the bridge. The temple was in sight. Each member of the party was silent as they approached the entrance – lost in their own thoughts.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~