Braska's Journey
Macalania – Chapter Five – The Trials

"Lord Braska, I cannot allow this."

The Summoner blinked at Auron - stopped mid-sentence.  Jecht, standing behind Braska, was wondering when Auron was going to stop arguing with every little thing the priest did.  Standing before the entry to the Trials, the Summoner had raised his staff before him and was about to give the formulaic query to his companions when the warrior stepped in front of him.  Grabbing the wood just below Braska's hand, he had sternly and resolutely made his statement.  The silence that descended was awkward and acute. 

Finally, Braska lowered the staff and responded, "Auron, explain yourself."  The tone of the Summoner's voice was cold.

"Jecht is not your Guardian.  He has never read the scrolls, taken the Oath, undergone purification, or even had his name added to the Rolls."  The warrior stared into Braska's eyes intently.  "The Law of the Church states that only Summoners and their Guardians may enter the Trials.  Until he becomes a Guardian, I cannot allow the man to enter here."

Offended, yet again, Jecht was fed up with Auron's attitude.  He glared at the warrior and spat, "If you've got a problem with me, Auron, why don't you take it up with me and leave Braska out of it?  Or are ya afraid I'd kick your ass?"

Auron ignored the comment; his eyes darted to Jecht rapidly and then back to Braska.  "I apologize.  I understand that I am directly refuting your will.  But, in this matter, my duty is clear.  I may serve you as my Summoner - you may be my friend - but that is exactly why I cannot be a party to this.   I will not stand by and let you do something I know to be wrong – something that might cause you to be censured, excommunicated, or banned from approaching the Fayth at other temples." Auron closed his eyes and sighed.  "Braska.  Please.  Do not make me choose between my Summoner and my Church."

After a moment, Braska's head bowed.  Jecht watched as he took a deep breath and clasped a hand to Auron's good shoulder.  "You are always watching over me, Auron.  I cannot be upset with you for doing your duty.  I have my reasons.  Jecht must enter the Trials with us.  If you insist on this I will defer."

The events that followed were rapid and left Jecht's head spinning.  When he looked back on what transpired in those few moments, he realized that the course of his life – perhaps the real reason he existed – was distilled into two monosyllabic responses.

Braska turned in place to face the man from Zanarkand.  "Jecht, I want you to become my Guardian."

Auron's head snapped up; eyes opened wide.  Part of him had expected this response, but he still couldn't believe it was happening.  He made one and only one attempt to stop it.  "Jecht, before you answer him, you must understand something.  It would be wrong for you to enter into a covenant without full knowledge of what is required.  If you become a Guardian, you pledge your life to protecting this man.  You will follow where he leads until his death.  His needs must come before your own and you will be committing yourself to the Journey – to helping Braska fight and defeat Sin."  Auron moved from his position before the door and crossed the short distance between himself and the blitzer.  "If you answer 'yes' to my Lord, I will hold you to your vow.  You will fulfill it or I will send you to the Farplane myself.  Do you understand?"

Jecht didn't understand.  Not really.  Braska was standing there waiting for an answer.  For some reason he couldn't articulate, Jecht trusted the Summoner.  Perhaps he responded the way he did because he wanted to give something back to the man who got him out of jail.  Perhaps he responded the way he did because Auron was always pushing his buttons and he hated feeling put down.  Perhaps he responded the way he did because it was his fate to do so.  But, in the end, the reason didn't really matter.  Jecht narrowed his eyes at the warrior before him and said contemptuously, "yeah."

"Hn," Auron grunted in response. 

Stepping up, Braska extended his staff before him, horizontal to the ground.  His hands placed shoulder width apart on the smooth wood surface; he extended the rod outward toward Jecht.  "Place your hands next to mine, Jecht."

Eyes darting, and feeling suddenly unsure of himself, Jecht slid the packs from his shoulder and put the blitzball on top of them so it wouldn't roll down the stairs.  He reached forward hesitantly and placed his hands next to Braska's on the staff.

The Summoner looked at Auron and said, "Tell him the Oath."

Auron took a deep breath and spoke The Oath of Guardianship;

"In the presence of almighty Yevon, I do declare and swear before these people here assembled that I shall do the utmost my power to protect and defend my Summoner against all threat whatever.

"I do further declare that I will help, assist, and advise all or any other Summoners that Journey to defeat Sin.

"I do further promise and declare that I will have no opinion or will of my own nor any mental reservation whatever, even in death, but will unhesitatingly obey each and every command that I may receive from my Summoner, thinking always of that which is right and true. I shall continually practice the art and science of my chosen weapons that I may be a living shield and spinning blade that protects my Summoner from harm. Waking first, and sleeping last, I shall be ever vigilant, seeing everything accurately and without the distortion of irrationality, being aware always of that which is not obvious. By uncovering that which is hidden, I may be a shelter for my Summoner in time of trial. I shall understand the harm and benefit in all things, being careful even in small matters, and doing nothing useless, that I may safeguard my Summoner and put always his needs and well-being before my own.

"I will go forth to any part of Spira – from the frozen heights of Mt. Gagazet, to the jungle forests of Kilika, through the storm filled Gandof Thunder Plains, into the crystalline forests of Macalania, across the barren Calm Lands, and to the unknown of Zanarkand as directed by my charge.

"I hereby dedicate my life, soul, and all corporal powers to this task. Should I prove false, or weaken in my determination, may Yevon strike me down and make me a fiend for all time."

"It is much to ask, Jecht," Braska said quietly as Auron's baritone voice fell silent.  "Yet, I ask it.  I choose you to be my Guardian.  Will you accept?"

No one could have been more shocked than Jecht at his immediate reply.  The voice the said it sounded like someone else.  "Yes."

Braska smiled.

"My Lord, I should take Jecht to the temple Keeper of Records and have his name added to the Rolls."  Auron's voice seemed to startle the two as they looked at each other.  "Might I suggest that you rest?  Jecht and I will pass our evening in mediation and study to fulfill the requirements of the rituals.  You may approach the Fayth in the morning."

The Summoner nodded his response and said, "thank you, Auron."  He lowered his staff and picked up the packs from the floor.  Braska carefully handed the blitzball to Jecht.  "A Guardian should never be without his weapons."

Reaching out, Jecht took the ball and tucked it under his right arm.  The expression on his face was complex and unreadable – somewhere between shock, fear, and disbelief lay the truth of how he felt.  Not knowing what else to do Jecht shrugged and said, "Sure.  Thanks."

Braska left the two Guardians standing before the entry to the Trials.  The Summoner walked gracefully down the stairs and, after stopping to speak with a priest, entered a small room to the left.  Jecht just stood there, watching, until the wooden door shut behind Braska and sealed him away.  Then, Auron spoke and the blitzer turned to face him.

"Come with me."

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Jecht was bored out of his mind.

He'd been stuck in the cloister for going on four hours.  After a quick stop in a library to have some old bald man scratch Jecht's name on a piece of paper, the warrior had commandeered a couple of teen-aged boys in white dresses.  Pushing Jecht ahead of him, Auron had stuffed him in the small room telling him he'd be back.

After about an hour of Jecht pacing the little room, Auron had returned.  It was a bit of a shock.  Instead of wearing his normal red coat, gray pants, and armor plating, he was in a set of priest's robes.  They were a touch short and a little snug in the shoulders.  Jecht figured Auron must have borrowed them from someone.  Long black hair loose, and the boys following behind him, Auron carried some kind of cloth and the sword he had selected for Jecht.  The young men carried a large basin of water, some bottles of something, and a small box.

"Jecht, you need to get undressed and stand in the center of the room," Auron said quietly.

"What?"  The blitzer's eyebrows rose at the directive.

With an expression of forced patience on his face, Auron said, "You heard me.  Strip."

"What the hell for?"

Auron sighed.  "Jecht, there are rituals that must be observed for you to become Braska's Guardian.  Simply saying 'yes' is not enough."  The boys moved to stand on either side of the scruffy man.  They placed their burdens on the floor at their feet and waited.  "Once you have removed your clothing, these two dedicated will assist me in washing and anointing you.  We will bless you weapons.  Your clothing and armor will be taken away, washed, repaired, and blessed.  You will spend the day in this room, naked before an altar.  You will meditate on the Oath of Guardianship as you fast and deprive yourself of sleep.  I will also bring you the Scrolls of Guardianship.  You will read all ten scrolls.  I will stay with you, though it is not technically a correct observance of the rituals, so you may ask me any questions you have regarding the material."  Auron came to stand before Jecht and looked directly in his eyes.  His final words were a stern and deliberate order. "Now, remove your clothing."

Two hours later, Jecht was washed, covered in some kind of scented oil, and was kneeling on a cold stone floor in front of an altar that had strange symbols all over it.  Incense was burning in the room and the combination of the cloyingly sweet odor; the sandalwood of the oil, and an empty stomach was starting to make him sick.  Auron and the dedicated exited the room to allow Jecht time for 'reflection' as the warrior retrieved the scrolls. 

Jecht was starting to wonder if everyone was a religious fanatic.

It wasn't long before Auron returned, this time with the old bald guy who had scribbled down Jecht's name in a book.  Each had five large scrolls.  About the length of Jecht's forearm, each was made of some kind of strong white cloth attached at the ends to ornately carved wooden dowels and bound with scarlet cording.  Carefully placing the items in a stack on Jecht's right, Auron turned to the old man and bowed.  The blitzer's eyes widened.

~~What the hell?  He just did the blitzball sign of victory!~~

Auron turned to speak to Jecht and stopped when he saw the look on the man's face.  "Is there something wrong, Jecht?"

"What's that thing you just did?" 

Tilting his head slightly to the right and narrowing his eyes, Auron said, "What do you mean?  This?"  He performed the motion again.

"Yeah.  What's that?"  Jecht's expression was intent.

"It is called the Sign of Prayer," Auron said.  "It is a sacred ritual greeting that bestows the blessings Yevon.  I am sure you have seen Braska perform some abbreviated version of this motion before.  Is there a problem?"

Jecht didn't reply.  He just sat there, frowning, as he thought back over the last few days and tried to remember. 

~~No.  Braska bowed, but he didn't do that.  I woulda remembered that….~~

Reaching up, Jecht ran an oiled hand through his hair and then scratched at the back of his neck.  It didn't really make sense to him.  First, the tune he liked turned out to be a holy song.  Now the blitzball sign for victory was a blessing of god. 

~~That's it.  I gotta be dreamin'  I'm gonna wake up in a hospital with a straight jacket on.~~

Auron was becoming concerned.  "Jecht?"

The blitzer decided not to ask any more questions about the issue and changed the subject.  "So, I'm supposed ta read these read these things, right?"  He motioned at the rather large pile next to him.

Thinking Jecht was acting rather odd; Auron hesitated before nodding and saying,  "Yes."

Jecht arched an eyebrow and said incredulously, "All of em?"

"Yes," Auron replied, "all of them."

"I gotta read all that in one night?!  You gotta be kiddin' me, Auron.  I don't read that much in a year!"

Auron closed his eyes and his hands clenched reflexively.  He sighed deeply.

//Well, it did take me about that long…//

Opening his eyes, Auron picked up the top scroll and moved to Jecht's left.  He untied the scroll as he knelt next to the man and laid it out on the floor.  "Here, help hold it open," he said as he rolled the right end out toward Jecht.  The blitzer took the wood dowel in his hand and the two men stretched the scroll out to its full length.  Pointing to the far top left of the scroll Auron began…

"Now, pay attention, Jecht.  I am only going through this once."

----------------------

By the time dawn arrived, Jecht was starving.  He and Auron had been going over the scrolls all night.  The blitzer thought his head was going to split in two. 

"Auron," he growled, pressing his hands to either side of his head, "If I hear you say one more fuckin' word I'm gonna kill ya."

The warrior had to work hard to suppress a laugh.  He got lucky.  The door opened and a dedicated entered with Jecht's clothing and weapons.  The distraction allowed Auron to regain some composure.  "Thank you," he said.  Receiving Jecht's outfit, arm guard, sword, and blitzball he moved and placed them on the altar.  Turning, he performed the sign of Prayer to dismiss the dedicated.  "May Yevon watch over you, dedicated."

"And you also, Sir Auron," the young man replied.  He returned the Sign of Prayer and, remaining bowed, walked backward out the door.

Turning to Jecht, Auron said, "Well, at the risk of grave personal injury, I believe we are finished.  Get dressed.  I will meet you outside."  Smiling, Auron bowed deeply and left.

~~Damn.  When do I get to eat something!?~~

--------------------- 

Jecht stayed hungry for a long time.

Watching the blitzer pace back and forth, Auron wondered if it was possible to wear a grove in the stone floor.  Braska had been in the Chamber of the Fayth for only two hours and the warrior was already considering using his only sleep potion on the man.  Jecht seemed incapable of standing still for more than a few moments.  It was maddening the way the man fidgeted constantly.  Finally, completely fed up with the situation, Auron growled,  "Pick a spot and stand for Yevon's sake!"

Jecht turned to look at Auron.  He tossed his hands upward in frustration.  "Whaddaya want from me?  I sat still all night…I read the stupid scrolls…Lighten up, will ya!"

Auron let out a put-upon sigh, closed his eyes, and leaned against a pillar to wait.

//If I drugged him, Braska would be angry.//

For a while last night, Auron almost enjoyed Jecht's company.  When the man wasn't being a cocky, self-centered, show-off, he was actually tolerable.  Jecht had surprised Auron by asking some rather pointed and intelligent questions as they went over the information in the Scrolls of Guardianship.  Cracking jokes in an effort to thaw Auron's frosty demeanor, Jecht had almost managed to illicit a laugh from the warrior on several occasions.  Not wanting to encourage him, Auron had forced himself to frown and said sternly, "Jecht, this is not a joking matter.  Pay attention."

After dressing, Jecht had come out of the cloister yawning and cracking his knuckles.  When Auron had explained that Braska was waiting for them in the Great Hall the man had frowned.  "When's breakfast?" he asked.

"Tomorrow," was Auron's reply.  It hadn't gone over well.

Swiftly darting into a small room off the main hall, Auron had changed clothing and returned the borrowed Robes of Office.  Thanking the priest for his assistance, he made a mental note to have Braska say something to the man before they left the temple.  Auron had quickly left to join Jecht at Braska's side and the group had entered the trials.

The maze had taken quite a time.  The Trials were cold and the puzzle, while not as intricate as the one at St. Bevelle, was maddening.  Trudging up and down ice slick ramps was not Auron's idea of fun.  Jecht, however, slid across the floor and juggled the spheres, making Braska laugh.  The man's irreverence seemed to delight the Summoner.  Auron just grunted in exasperation.

Finally, they completed the ice bridge.  Entering the antechamber that allowed access to the Chamber of the Fayth Braska had turned to face his Guardians.  Performing the Sign of Prayer, Auron had told Braska, "We will be here when you return, Lord."

Now, Auron was wondering if he could tolerate Jecht long enough to keep his word.  Jecht had taken to playing with the blitzball in an effort to distract himself.  Alternating between strikes with his fist, and kicks with his foot, the man from Zanarkand was rhythmically pounding the ball against a stone wall.  The sound was driving Auron crazy.

"Enough!"  The warrior's voice rang in the enclosure.  He thrust himself off the stone pillar and strode over to Jecht.  "If you have so much energy to expend, we will begin your sword training."  Auron reached out and snatched the blitzball from Jecht's hands.

"Sword training?" Jecht said.  "How long is Braska gonna be in there?"

"Until he is finished," responded Auron.

Jecht looked at the warrior and narrowed his eyes.  His tone of voice made it clear he was more than a bit upset.  "I've had about enough of you."

"That makes two of us," Auron growled in response.  "Now get out the sword.  You are a Guardian and need to know how to use it."

The two stood there, staring each other down, and suddenly Auron's head jerked toward the entry to the Chamber of the Fayth.  His eyes flashed wide in a strange expression and he took off running up the stairs.

Before Jecht could ask what was going on, the door began to rise.  Braska, leaning heavily on his staff and obviously shaking, forced himself forward to clear the doorway.  Auron was almost too late.  The Summoner, staff tangled in his long robes, tripped and began to fall forward.  The staff clattered as it rolled down the stone steps.

Reaching out, Auron grabbed Braska before he struck the floor.  "Braska!"  The warrior's voice was full of concern.

Jecht's eyes widened and he kicked himself into action, racing to catch up to Auron.  Taking the stairs two at a time, he joined the warrior and said in a worried voice,  "What the hell happened?"

Braska lay limp in Auron's arms.  Swallowing hard, the warrior said, "Jecht, get your ball and stand back."

"Why?  What the hell's goin' on?"

Resting the form of the Summoner on his lap, Auron put a hand back to the hilt of his sword.  His lip trembling he stated, "He may have become a heretic, Jecht."  A ring of steel followed the words as Auron drew his sword and held it at the ready.

The blitzer's eyes widened.  Most of what he'd read in the Scrolls was a jumbled mess.  But one thing had come through clearly – if a Summoner went into the Chamber of the Fayth and failed, it was a death sentence. 

Braska began to stir in Auron's grasp.  The warrior's response to the action was immediate.  "Lord, did you obtain the Aeon?"  Auron's voice made the question a demand and the sword was dangerously close to Braska's neck.

The silence that fell in response was terrifying.  Jecht was frozen – unable to move.  He couldn't imagine having to kill Braska.  He could see little Yuna's face in his mind – the pretty eyes and happy smile.  He thought of having to go back to Bevelle and tell the girl her father was dead – tell her he'd helped to kill him.  Jecht knew he couldn't do it.

Auron took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  The shock of magic that had run through the warrior before Braska appeared had been different than Bevelle.  Stronger.  He'd felt fear.  He tried one last time to reach his friend.  "Braska.  Please."  A gloved hand moved and brushed the long sweat-matted hair away from the Summoner's face.  "Answer me…" he pleaded.

The words that left Braska were so soft that even Auron couldn't hear. Bowing his head close to that of the Summoner he said, "Lord?"

Jecht couldn't hear the response but the meaning was clear.  An audible sigh of relief escaped him when Auron's face split into smile.  The warrior began to laugh.   "Braska, you truly are incorrigible…"

The Summoner began to move.  Auron quickly sheathed his sword and helped him to his knees.  Braska turned his head to look at Jecht.  "Well, it seems I gave you both a scare," he said.  "I am sorry."

Jecht, satisfied that things were all right, trotted down the steps and retrieved the staff and packs while Auron helped Braska down the stairs.  "Anything I can do?" he asked.

Auron was a bit surprised.  Jecht's question wasn't directed at Braska.  He shook his head in response.  "No.  We are all right."

Braska looked back and forth between the two men.  Something had happened between them.  Jecht seemed more relaxed around Auron, and the Call was not filled with quite as much frustration.  Pleased, he smiled softly and let the warrior lead him out of the antechamber.

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Ok.  This should be the last post before I leave for China.  I'm afraid you'll have to wait until sometime near the end of October for the next update.  Thanks for reading – and a HUGE thanks to those that review. 

A