Chapter Thirty-One

Jahara, Land of the Garif
Year 706 of the Old Valendian Calendar

The moon shone overhead, just a sliver short of full. Penelo figured they must've missed the full moon last night, during the rain shower. Still, surrounded by a thousand icy stars in the clear sky above the Ozmone Plain, the sight was beautiful to behold.
The Garif displayed incredible hospitality for a seclusive race that never interacted with the world outside. They provided an excellent meal, though it was obvious Ashe's mind was elsewhere; no one could blame her. Penelo tried her best to enjoy the meal and not let the unstable future deter her. The Garif were excellent hosts, and the conversion was lively. After a good meal and much talk, Penelo went for a walk, taking in the sights of Jahara. It was night now, but most of the Garif were still up and about, talking around roaring fires. Apparently having visitors was a rare event indeed.
Penelo walked up to the edge of one of the many cliffs that marked the rise and fall of Jahara's levels. This one dropped only about ten feet to the plateau below, which stretched on, covered in huts and firepits and Garif, only to drop away again. The land flowed out into open plains, away to the horizon, where stars scattered their light down to the earth. Penelo smiled at the view. A lot had happened worthy of thought, but Penelo didn't want to think right now. She wanted to dance.
Penelo pulled out her staff, the rod of old, worn metal reflecting the moonlight above and the firelight below. She stood near the cliff's edge, between a Garif hut and a pen of short, round, flightless birds, where no one would see her. It wasn't that she'd mind if someone watched; it was her dream that someday people would. She just didn't want to be in the way. Penelo began her routine of spinning and twisting, guiding the staff along with her all the way. The metal rod really helped her keep her balance, but, if used right, it could be woven into an integral part of the display. If only she could do up on stage like she'd dreamed two years ago…
Penelo let both feet rest back flat on the ground, bobbing in a final curtsy to an imaginary audience that marked the end of the routine. Dancing was the easiest thing in the world to her, far easier than walking miles, battling monsters, or using healing magic, though she was getting better at all those things. Still, Penelo would've loved nothing more than to be back home in Rabanastre, in that theater where she'd spent so many hours dreaming.
"Amazing!" The voice made Penelo jump, spinning around with a gasp. There opposite her, several Garif stood crowded around a firepit. One of them, older, scales tinged with grey, stood out at the front.
"Why, the birds of the skies do not move with such grace!" the Garif elder continued. "Why do you hide the shadows, hume-child? Come into the light and let us see!"
"Oh, really?" Penelo felt her cheeks grow warm as her eyes widened. "You really mean that?"
"Of course," the Garif elder said. "If you'd be willing."
"Then… sure!"
Penelo stepped out of the building's safe shadows, into the crackling firelight. She held out her staff, and, breathing deep, reminded herself that this was what she'd dreamed of for as long as she could remember. And it probably wasn't a dream, though if it was one, it wasn't a bad one.
Then Penelo had a marvelous idea, and all anxiety melted into excitement.
Swinging her staff wide, she began.

…

"Vaan!"
Vaan was on his was on his way to the tent to turn in when the voice called him back. Two empty tents stood side by side, the ones Supinelu had shown them that morning, one for the three girls and one for the rest of them. Vaan didn't feel all that tired, but he figured it was pretty late. When he heard the voice calling his name, he spun around to see Larsa jogging down the path behind him, trying to catch up.
"Oh, Larsa," Vaan said. "What's up?" Vaan really wasn't sure what to make of the kid. He couldn't possibly have been more than thirteen, yet spoke had more political savvy than Vaan had ever heard, and more maturity than most adults. And he was an imperial, another thing that made Vaan skeptical.
"Have you seen Lady Ashe around?" Larsa asked, coming to a halt. "I'd like to talk to her once more before I turn in."
"Hey, I'm no expert," Vaan replied, "but maybe you should let her… I dunno, think a bit? She seemed kinda, well…"
"I suppose so." Larsa sighed and turned to stare down the stepping-stool slopes of Jahara. After a few moments, he frowned, then pointed. "Look, down there! What's that?"
Following his finger, Vaan spotted a crowd of Garif circled around something a few layers down. From the center of the crowd flashes of light drifted up in spiraling patterns, though Vaan couldn't see what made it.
"I dunno," Vaan said with a shrug. "Wanna go see?"
Larsa stared up at him for a few moments, as if his overly serious nature couldn't comprehend doing something so trivial just for curiosity's sake.
"Alright," Larsa said at last, nodding.
Vaan led the way down a serious of bridges and slopes, and soon he and Larsa had reached the outskirts of the Garif crowd. Their scaly bodies towered over the two human boys, blocking all view from the outside. After a few of Larsa's polite requests, the crowd parted, and they slipped in. Vaan's eyes widened when he saw what they were all watching.
There in the middle, given a wide berth by the gathered audience, was Penelo, dancing. Soft, white light, tinged with warm, milky hues, spilled around her hands and staff, leaving ethereal trails in the air as she twisted and twirled. It was a familiar light, that Vaan had seen numerous times, bathing and erasing the worst of wounds.
"Oh, she's using her magic, I think," Vaan whispered to Larsa. "That's cool."
"It's beautiful," Larsa replied, staring in rapt attention at the display.
"Yeah, she's good at this, huh? Larsa?" When Larsa didn't reply, Vaan decided not to bother him. Instead, he just watched the show.

…

Ashe knelt in the grass on the hillside overlooking the village of Jahara. Up here, near the great-chief's tent, pathways were few and huts nonexistent, just a green hillside far, far above the busy village, with its bonfires, houses and people. Here, the sky was so close, and though she could see both clearly, Ashe felt more a part of that great starry expanse than the bustle far below. Alone and peaceful, here, she could think.
Settled in the soft green grass, cool in the nighttime air, Ashe cradled the Dawn Shard in her hands, staring down at it as she thought. She tried to weigh her options logically, but her mind kept wandering. She let her gaze drift down the hillside, following its steep curve until it mellowed out. A bridge at the bottom arched a gently flowing brook, connecting this peaceful hill with the village below. Ashe thought she could see figures standing on it, but they were too far away to make out. Letting out a sigh, she leaned backward, falling into the thick, soft grass, staring up at the starry heavens above. Not a cloud marred the beautiful display of moon and stars, strewn over a clean black canvas. Try as she might, the only thing Ashe could think of was Rasler. The final moments before he left for Nalbina, the horror and anger on his face as Captain Basch brought the news of Nabudis's fall, and subsequently the death of Rasler's whole family… Gazing into the night sky, the Dawn Shard resting in her hands, Ashe drifted in those memories, wondering what Rasler would have wanted. War sounded horrible, unthinkable, but… Hadn't Rasler said…?
A flare of light caught Ashe's attention. She sat up suddenly, letting out a gasp as she saw the pillar of soft white light, like a mass of glowing cobwebs, slowly knitting into a from. Her eyes widened, and she held the Dawn Shard to her heart. The stone felt suddenly hot, but somehow, she couldn't let go of it. The flare of light died away, and standing in its place was a ghostly, translucent figure, one she knew very well.
"Rasler!"
Ashe scrambled to her feet, holding the Dawn Shard tight the whole time. Weary from the long day, tired and confused, it barely crossed her mind that this was impossible. Ashe rushed up the ghostly figure, reaching out a hand to touch his familiar face. Her fingers passed straight through, though she felt an electric thrill in the air. She'd seen this before, in Raithwall's tomb. Ashe wanted to say something but didn't know what.
Rasler smiled, then turned and walked away down the hillside, silent footsteps carrying his ghostly swiftly over the grass. Ashe stood stunned for a few moments, then broke into a run following him. Her feet caught in the grass on the downward slope, and she fell. Ashe landed face-first in the grass, managing not to tumble head-over-heels down the steep hill. She felt the Dawn Shard slip from her grasp, and a painful jolt rushed up her arm. Ignoring every other pain from her fall, Ashe pushed herself up to sit, reaching out into the grass for the Dawn Shard. Her fingers found its warm surface, and she pulled it in, holding it tight. But Rasler!
Scrambling back to her feet, Ashe looked around for her husband's ghost. She spotted him farther down the hillside, still walking away, headed for the bridge at the bottom.
"Rasler, wait!" Ashe shouted, taking off again. She didn't know if this was real, if maybe she was asleep or just seeing things, but she had to reach him. She just had to.
Ashe rushed out onto the bridge at the hill's bottom. There stood Rasler, hands resting on the railing, staring out over the brook's gentle flowing waters. Ashe was blind to everything save that wavering figure, blue-shaded and crystal-like, arrayed in that same suit of armor he'd worn when he left for Nalbina, ghostly face so clear in the moonlight. Ashe reached a hand for his shoulder and felt with joy it contact something solid.
"Rasler!"

…

Balthier stood on the bridge, one of those spanning over the brook that flowed all through the village, springing atop the hill and flowing down the cliffs and hill all around. The water rippled gently by underneath his feet, and down the hillside beyond, all Jahara stretched, huts and pens, bonfires and Garif, small as dot in the distance. This bridge was up near the great-chief's tent, away from the main thoroughfare and any listening ears. That was why Balthier had brought Fran up here, so they could talk, without a chance of being overheard.
"So," Balthier said to Fran, who stood next to him on the bridge. "You said we needed to talk? More than we did?"
Fran nodded slowly. "Mm."
Balthier should've expected he'd have to be the one to start this conversation. As he tried to find the right questions, Balthier realized one thing; he really didn't want to talk about this. He'd love nothing more than to just forget about the song and the prophecy and the ancient evil altogether. But he knew from experience that wasn't a good idea. If Fran knew any more, he had to hear it.
"So… was there more?" Balthier asked. "Something other than just that song?"
"More?" Fran thought a few moments. "Not much. I heard… a few stories, when I was young, though I don't know if there's any truth to them."
"I'd take just about anything at this point," Balthier replied.
Fran was silent for a while. She leaned against the bridge's railing, staring into the starlit waters below as she grasped in her memory. "They said something about… a war," she said at last, "and the seven races living in hiding. I don't remember them well. I never cared much for the ancient tales. I didn't believe the prophecy… until I met you."
"Well, that must've been quite the surprise," Balthier said.
"I didn't know what to think when they threw you into that cell," Fran said, letting her gaze drift to face him. "Once I felt the myst… I didn't want to look. I couldn't be sure what I'd see."
"And then I up and offered to help you escape." Balthier let out a half-hearted chuckle. "I always wondered why you were so hostile then." Balthier paused, listening to the water's murmuring as he pondered those events. "Why did you agree to come with me after that? I'd think you'd have been keen to get away."
"I couldn't… forget," Fran replied. "All Viera are taught the prophecy; it is a deep part of our culture. She closed her eyes, as if reciting something she'd been taught. "'It is the Viera's duty to remember what time has forgot, and never let it repeat.' When I met you, I…"
"…saw it as your sacred duty to thwart me and my evil plans?" Balthier finished. Fran sighed again, nodding.
"But as time wore on, I realized… you didn't know. You weren't… intending anything. You weren't evil. At least, I hoped not."
"It took you two years to figure that out?"
"I had to be sure," Fran said, looking him full in the face. "But you did know… something, didn't you?"
"Hm?" Balthier frowned. "Of course not. I don't see what you're getting at, Fran."
"When I told you," Fran said, "you were surprised, but not… confused. You knew what I meant. You must have known something before then. Or not known, but you knew you were… You're… You're not…"
"Oh. Normal?" Balthier turned away from Fran's gaze as the answer to that question rushed through his mind, instead staring into the starry waters below. He half expected his powers to surge up, that cold energy twisting inside. It didn't, but the memory was as painfully strong as ever. "No," Balthier forced out at last. "No, I suppose I'm not."
Fran nodded slowly. "I thought I saw… You used it in the sandsea, didn't you?"
"If you saw that," Balthier said, "then you knew as much as I do."
Fran nodded, and there was silence. Balthier felt like he should say something more, but couldn't think of anything. The last thing he wanted was to keep talking about this.
Balthier's thoughts were shattered as he felt a touch on his shoulder, a hand reaching up and grasping firm. Accompanying the sudden contact came a voice ringing through the air.
"Rasler!"
Balthier spun around, badly startled, to face an ecstatic Princess Ashe.
"Not Rasler," Balthier said, holding his hands up defensively. He wasn't sure what else to say; he wasn't even sure where Ashe came from. Fran looked equally surprised.
Ashe jumped back, the joy on her face melting into confusion. She blinked a few times, glanced around, then brought her gaze back to rest on Balthier.
"Oh, I…" she stammered. "I… Sorry! I just… I thought…"
"Thought what?" Balthier said, surprise fading to irritation. "Your dead husband decided to go for a walk?"
"No!" Ashe said. "But he was… I saw…"
"What, ghosts, then?" Balthier asked.
"Yes!" Ashe replied.
Balthier rolled his eyes. "Should I be worried about you, princess?"
"I've seen it before!" Ashe replied, emphatically.
"Now I'm really worried."
"But I did!"
Balthier sighed. The last thing he wanted to deal with now was a hallucinating princess.
"Some help, Fran?"
The faintest smile crossed Fran's face. "I'll… let you two talk." Then she turned, her footsteps echoing off the wooden bridge as she walked away.
"Fran! Oh…" Balthier sighed. Thanks a lot. He turned back to the princess, who was still waiting for… something, apparently. Whether she was crazy or not, there was something he'd been wanting to ask her.
"So, all phantoms aside," Balthier said, "have you decided what you're doing next, princess?"
Ashe let out a long sigh. She walked up to the bridge's edge, leaning her arms on the railings. Starlight showered down from the clear heavens above, glancing off the water's surface and lighting her uncertain face.
"Not quite yet," she said.
Balthier sighed. "Really? You can't decide? You of all people want to fight a cataclysmic war? I don't claim to know you that well, princess, but that doesn't sound like you. 'Death to Archadia, whatever the cost?'"
"No, but…" Ashe let out a sigh, glancing down at something she held. Balthier noticed for the first time she held the Dawn Shard in her hands. "When Rasler rode off to Nalbina that day, to lead the defense, he said…" Ashe closed her eyes, breathing hard at the memory. "He swore by his honor and his father's spilt blood that he'd make Archadia rue the day she raised her sword against house Nabradia. I'd never seen him so angry. Really, it… scared me. But… he'd want this! I knew Rasler; he would never rest until he and all his family were avenged."
"Well, it's your choice," Balthier said. "But if I were you, I know what I'd do."
Ashe looked up at Balthier, staring into his face for a long moment.
"Oh, I… I couldn't do it! I never could!" she said at last. "I… Oh, Rasler…" Ashe held the Dawn against her chest. "I'm sorry…"
"Ashe." Balthier couldn't believe what he was listening to. "You'll save thousands of lives instead of taking them. Isn't that the right thing?"
Ashe sucked in a deep breath, nodding slowly. "I… You're right. I have to try. Somehow."
"You're not alone, princess," Balthier said. "None of us want this to continue. We'll end all this war and death, right at the source."
Ashe stared into his face for a few seconds, then down into the starlit waters.
"Not alone." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, a tiny smile playing over her lips. "That sounds nice. When Vossler…" Her smile melted, but she continued. "When he… Oh, up on the Leviathan, right then, all I could think was… This is it. It's all over. I'm all alone. I can't go on, can't take another step. I think I gave up. I wanted to."
"I know the feeling," Balthier said. "When the one person you can cling to is gone, you wonder, 'why hold on anymore?'" Ashe looked up at Balthier, frowning in confusion. Balthier was aware of how much he was spilling, but continued anyway. "But there's one difference between you and me, Ashe: you're still fighting."
"Well… You're here," she said. "Thanks. For helping me."
Balthier let out a chuckle. "Well, Ashe, while I'd love to say this is all gallantry and good will, I have my own quarrels against the nethicite, and my own reasons to be here. If this was all just about some damsel in distress, then I'd probably have flown off a long time ago."
"Well, then… I know you'll stick around." A smile danced over Ashe's lips, timid, almost nervous, but somehow gentle and elegant at the same time.
"You don't do that very often, you know," Balthier said.
"What?" Ashe asked.
"Smile."
"Oh." A blush touched Ashe's cheeks, the red hue contrasting with the silver starlight showering down around her face. Balthier chuckled, thinking that was a bit overkill for his offhanded remark.
Then the pain came, flooding in as the image of Reina's face invaded Balthier's mind, cheeks rosy under crystal green eyes, far over-the-top for whatever he'd said this time. Suddenly, he couldn't bare the sight of the princess's face anymore.
"I… I think I'll turn in now," Balthier said, tearing his gaze away from Ashe. "Goodnight, princess."
"Oh. Goodnight, Balthier." She sounded confused, of course, but Balthier didn't stick around to see or hear any more. He walked off the bridge, taking the downward path towards the main town and the guest tent where they'd be staying. Ashe's face was gone, but Reina's wasn't. Still there, a ghostly image in his mind he longed was real enough to touch. Somehow, she looked so disappointed…

…

Balthier headed back to the guest tents. Two empty tents stood side by side, the ones Supinelu had shown them that morning, one for the three girls and one for the rest of them. The tents weren't that large, just big enough to hold a row of four beds. Balthier figured everyone else was still out with the Garif, which was just what he wanted; a little time alone to collect his thoughts and dismiss them.
Ducking inside the tent, Balthier saw with disappointment Captain Basch sitting on one of the beds, absorbed in the task of swabbing his sword with an old, well-worn rag. He glanced up as Balthier entered, then back to his task without a word. Balthier claimed a bed on the far side of the tent, sitting down on the low mattress and staring at the far wall. The tent was made of a thick, heavy hide, very large. Probably from some vicious beast they were lucky enough to avoid on their journey through the plains. Hopefully not one they'd encounter on the way back. Balthier let out a sigh. Oh, this is pointless. If he couldn't have the solitude he desired, Balthier decided, he might as well start a conversation.
"So," he said, turning to face Basch, "not much a fan of festivities, hmm, Captain?"
"You're here, too," Basch said, not looking up from his blade.
"True enough," Balthier replied. Apparently, Basch wasn't quite as interested in talking. There was awkward silence as Balthier contemplated going back outside. Then Basch spoke up.
"You were quite adamant we destroy the nethicite today, Balthier," Basch said, setting his sword on the bed beside him. "You know a lot about it?"
That certainly wasn't what Balthier expected. "As much as you do," he replied.
"And more?" Basch persisted.
Balthier let out a sigh. "And just what makes you so sure, Captain?" Of course, he did know lots about nethicite, but not something he was keen to share.
"You mentioned Nabudis," Basch said. "No one knows what happened there. That Archadia used nethicite there seems a good assumption, but you were sure. How is that?"
"Oh, well…" Balthier scrambled for some sort of excuse. Annoyance blossomed up at a great number of things: that he'd let that slip earlier, that he couldn't think of anything to say now, that he'd started his whole conversation in the first place.
"You want the nethicite gone, that I can tell," Basch said when Balthier didn't say anything. "But what you know might be important. Just who are you? And why are you so interested in the stones? What reason do you have not to say?"
Balthier let out a sigh. What reason did he have not to say now? Only that most of their party didn't carry much fondness for Archadians, and such a revelation was sure to cause a disturbance. Plus he didn't want to go through the hassle of explaining it all.
"Look, Captain," Balthier said, "It's my problem and not yours. I can handle it, alright?"
Basch sighed and shook his head. "Stubborn, close-minded, over-confident, unteachable, a lost cause beyond all others."
"What?" Balthier frowned in confusion.
"How Vossler's old instructor described him the day he was transferred to me," Basch said. "It seems to fit you."
For the second time that night, Balthier was rendered speechless by the man who never talked. What am I supposed to say to that?
Balthier was rescued from having to find an answer as Vaan and Larsa pushed their way into the tent.
"Hey!" Vaan said, grinning wide. "Did you guys see that?"
"See what?" Balthier asked. If the kid was kind enough to save him from that awkward situation, he might as well indulge him.
"Penelo! She was dancing- practically the whole village was out there watching her!" Vaan said. "She was using her magic, too, to make lights and stuff while she danced. It was awesome!"
"It was incredible," Larsa said with a faraway look. "Like something out of a dream. I haven't seen anything so beautiful in all my days."
"Well, I'm sure it was wonderful," Balthier said. rolling his eyes. "Now, we have a long ways to go tomorrow. We should probably start settling in."
"We still don't know if the princess will accept my offer," Larsa said with a frown. "I think there's a good chance she won't."
"Oh, don't worry," Balthier said, a smile creeping over his face. "A little birdy told she will."