Chapter Thirty
The Ozmone Plain
Year 706 of the Old Valendian Calendar
The grand plains of rolling green grass, disrupted here and there by rocky outcroppings and rising cliffs, stretched away to the horizon in every direction. The sun overhead was brilliant, but not oppressive like in the desert; it painted the whole bright scene with boundless life, every breath of breeze sending ripples of energy through the tall, green grass. The flight from Rabanastre to the Ozmone Plain took about two hours, filled with pleasant conversation. Vaan had started them off with the rather mundane topic of the weather and the recent rain shower, which the resident Dalmascans considered exotic indeed. Everyone joined in, even Fran and Basch with comments here and there. Balthier recognized what the talk really was: a callback to simpler days with an everyday topic, taking all their minds off the weighty events of the past several days, and the weighty mission they were about to embark on.
Fran had called them to a stop here, saying they were close enough to Jahara to walk, and that the Garif wouldn't appreciate them landing right on top of them. Now the whole party stood below Strahl, ready to depart.
"So, Fran, you seem to know where we're headed," Balthier said to his Viera partner. "Where now?"
"This way." Fran turned and nodded. "We're not far." One direction looked much like another on this vast, green plain, though this way were more rocks and ledges, building up to cliff that rose and fell from the green expanse.
"You've been to Jahara before?" Basch asked. Fran nodded.
"Golmore Jungle lies south of here, in Jagd Difor." Fran cast a misty glance towards the southern horizon. "There are many Viera there. They used to trade with the Garif, about seventy years ago."
"Seventy years ago?" Vaan's eyes went wide. "So how come you know how to get there?"
"I was there," Fran replied simply.
"You… wait… What?" Vaan frowned as he struggled to understand. Balthier sighed.
"Come on, everyone, let's be off. Maybe we can be on our way back before sundown."
Everyone murmured their agreement, and they started off through the tall grass, Fran taking the lead. Vaan fell into step beside Balthier.
"Fran said-" he began.
"Yes, I did hear," Balthier cut him off. "Viera live a lot longer than humans do, Vaan."
"How much longer?" Vaan asked. "How old is she?"
"I don't know; I've never asked," Balthier replied.
"Why not?"
"Because that would be terribly rude."
"Oh." Vaan glanced ahead at Fran again, and Balthier let out a sigh.
"It's a good thing you've never been to the courts of Archades, Vaan; I don't think your manners would've held up very well."
"What, you have?" Vaan said, eyes wide in horror like this was a capital offence.
Balthier let out a sigh, annoyed both at Vaan's prejudice and his own slip-up.
"Would it matter either way?" Not waiting for a response, Balthier took a few strides to put distance between himself and the kid. That wasn't something he wanted to explain right now.
…
They journeyed over the Ozmone Plain, following Fran's direction. The plain was bursting with life of all kinds, from harmless hares to giant birds to vicious behemoths. The wildlife gave them some trouble, and occasionally Fran or Penelo's talents were called upon after a confrontation, but such battles were all won without much difficulty. As Fran led them on, the cliffs and rises became more prevalent, until the party traveled through a series of gorges and valleys, all thickly grassed like the cliffs above. The Ozmone plain rose and fell in jagged cuts, but the same at any height in its lush vegetation and plentiful sunlight.
"It's just in here," Fran said, rounding the corner of a particularly narrow ravine. Everyone followed her. Beyond, the ground was worn by a thousand footsteps, the packed soil bare of grass. A bridge of red-tinted wood spanned a brook tumbling down from the arching hills beyond. There, painted over the hills and cliffs of the Ozmone Plains, lay a massive village. Huts and pens stretched over the plain, long since trodden to earthen paths. Before the bridge stood a Garif man, a tall, thickly muscled humanoid, garnished with red-brown scales over his arms and back. His face was covered with an ornate mask, carved from bone, sporting antler-like horns and a bird-like beak. His eyes peeped out from small holes, narrowing as he spotted the visitors.
"Halt," he said, raising the spear he held at his side. "Outsiders are not welcomed here."
"Calm down," Balthier said. "We won't be long. Just have a little errand we need to attend to."
"You are not welcome here," the Garif repeated. "Outsiders cannot be trusted. I think you'd best be on your way."
"But we have to get in!" Ashe said, walking up to the man. "Please, it's urgent; we can't go anywhere else!"
The Garif tightened his grip on his spear. "Human, I told you to leave. Don't ask again."
"Let's just talk about this, and not do anything hasty, alright?" Balthier said, hurrying up to them. He hoped Ashe got his message about not getting hasty as much as the guard did.
"Ramus, stand down," a new voice called. Balthier turned to see another Garif approaching down the path they'd just taken, sporting his own spear, red scales, and heavy, ornate mask.
"War-Chief!" The guard bowed hastily. "You were out on your own again?"
The war-chief didn't answer the guard's question. "Let these people pass, Ramus," he said. "I saw them crossing the plains; they're mighty warriors, or so they proved against the plain's beasts. And the Viera is known to me. I don't think they'll cause trouble."
Fran turned the newcomer, frowning in thought.
"Supinelu?" she said at last.
"Outsider!" the guard snapped. "Address the war-chief by his title!"
"Ramus, stand down," Supinelu said. "Last time we met, I was but an apprentice. And I do not care what she calls me." Supinelu walked up to Fran. "Fran! It has been such a long time since we saw each other! Seventy years, was it?"
Vaan let out a sigh. "So Garif live a really long time, too?"
Supinelu let a hearty laugh, despite the rudeness of Vaan's comment. "Oh, it's not we who live so long, but you humans whose lives are so fleeting."
Fran actually laughed at that- a subdued giggle, barely noticeable, but more than Balthier had ever heard from her. He didn't even think it was that funny.
"So, Fran!" Supinelu turned back to Fran. "What brings you here? Have you come from Golmore?"
Fran shook her head. "No. I left the wood… some time ago."
"I see," Supinelu replied, growing serious. "I might have told from your choice of company."
"Pardon me," Balthier interrupted, "but us fleeting, lesser beings have a reason to be here, too."
"Yes, I apologize," Supinelu said. "I meant no disrespect. You humans probably live more in the few years you spend in your cities than we ever do in our centuries in the forests and plains. But yes, tell me; why are you here?"
"We need to know about nethicite," Ashe replied.
"Nethicite?" Supinelu raised a hand to his chin. "I've heard of it, but I'm no master of the ancient legends. How did you come by word of that?"
"I am a descendant of Raithwall," Ashe replied. "The Shard relics-"
"The Dynast King himself?" Supinelu started, then marched up to Ashe, staring at her intently through his heavy mask. Ashe tried and failed to hold his gaze, and it seemed it was all she could do not to shrink away.
"Hm." Supinelu raised his hand back to his chin. "Surely a daughter of the Dynast King would carry herself with more dignity. But no; I see in your eyes you speak the truth. If it's knowledge of the stones you seek, I'm certain our great-chief knows something. I'll see if I can't arrange you an audience."
"Thank you," Ashe said, struggling to hide her offence.
"War-chief! I must protest!" the guard, Ramus, said. "We cannot bring these outsiders into the village! And to the great-chief?"
"Fran? Can we trust these people?" Supinelu asked. She nodded. "There? See?"
"But… Just on the Viera's word?" Ramus stammered. "We broke off trade with her kind for a reason!"
"Because our leaders saw fit to quarrel," Supinelu replied, growing impatient. "I am the war-chief and I say these people may pass. Stand aside, Ramus."
Ramus mumbled something under his breath, then reluctantly stepped aside.
"Come, now," Supinelu said, striding out onto the bridge. "It's just this way."
…
War-Chief Supinelu led the party through the pathways of Jahara. It was a very rustic village, though by no means small. The village clung tight the land's natural ups and downs, the two long since inseparable. Bridges and stairways climbed up the steeper ledges, connecting every layer of the ever-rising village. As the party walked along, Garif of all ages watched them with rapt interest, and Balthier didn't like all those eyes on them; he figured that must be what Fran felt every time she walked through a crowded city center. At the very peak of the hill, huts and tents sprinkled down the sides all around, stood a massive tent, smoke puffing out a small hole at the top. Supinelu left them in front of its massive flaps and went inside, saying he would speak with the great-chief. They all waited outside until he emerged.
"You may all come in, now," Supinelu called as he pushed out from under the great tent's flaps.
"Good," Basch said. He turned to Ashe. "Highness, are you ready?"
"Of course!" Ashe replied. "And thank you," she said to Supinelu. "We're in your debt."
"Oh, think nothing of it," he replied. "Now come on; let's not keep the great-chief waiting."
The great Garif held the heavy hide of the tent's flap open and allowed the five humans and one Viera to pass through. Inside, the thick shadows swathed from the high ceiling to the floor, where the dusky glow of a crackling bonfire chased them back into the corners. Several Garif sat around the fire, one figure standing out: his mask was painted with stripes of red and gold, adorned heavily with fanning feathers and ornaments of all kinds. He turned his head as the visitors entered, deep eyes peering from his mask, studying with intensity each of them in turn. Balthier assumed this was the great-chief.
"Great-chief," Supinelu said, dipping in a bow. "These are the outsiders."
"So I see," the great-chief said, his ancient voice, weighed with the wisdom of centuries, echoed from within his mask. "Supinelu, you may leave us." Supinelu nodded and turned to leave. The great-chief fixed his gaze on Ashe. "You are a descendant of the Dynast King, I am told. Is this true?"
Ashe nodded, trying to hold her head high. "Yes, it is."
"And you come seeking knowledge of his stones?"
Ashe nodded again. "Yes."
"To what end?"
Ashe hesitated on that answer. "I… I need to know how to weld it. The nethicite," she said at last.
"Then you have the shards?" the great-chief asked.
"One," Ashe replied. She fumbled a moment in the folds of her dress, then pulled out the Dawn Shard. The fire's glow had no power to color its dull, grey surface.
"Let me see it," the great-chief said, holding out one hand. Ashe walked up to him and placed the shard in his open palm. Even sitting, old and bent as he was, the Garif great-chief was nearly as tall as the princess. He held the stone close to his mask, turning it in one great clawed hand.
"This is indeed nethicite," he said after a few moments. "I have never seen it myself, but it is… unmistakable." The great-chief raised his head, sweeping his penetrating gaze over the whole group of outsiders. He held the stone out just above the licking flames. "These stones were given to Lord Raithwall more than a thousand years ago. The legends say he was called to the holy city, Giruvegan, where the Occuria bestowed on him a special purpose; they set him and his descendants as their scribes, to write the history they pleased, and they gave him these stones to be his pen. This done, the Occuria of old left the writing of history with the Dynast King and his descendants, claimed as their servants 'til time's end. They say in Raithwall's children can yet hear the Occuria's call, that their blood rings with it." He set his gaze on Ashe. "Though whether the long centuries have rendered them deaf, I know not." Ashe hung her head, unable to meet his gaze.
"But can we use this nethicite?" Basch said, bringing things back to the topic at hand. The great-chief let out a sigh, examining the stone again.
"This stone has already been used," he said. "Deployed carelessly, drained dry. It holds no power now, only a terrible thirst." He held the stone out, and Ashe took it. "Careful, daughter of Raithwall," he said. "It is those who desire the stone's power who the nethicite itself desires."
Those words rang all-too true to Balthier's ears.
"Great-Chief." Supinelu's voice called. Balthier turned and saw him standing just within the tent, holding open the flap. "Our other guest is here. He wishes to speak with the princess."
"Other guest?" Balthier echoed, frowning.
"Yes," the great-chief said. "Your coming was foretold, you see. Our earlier visitor said the princess of Dalmasca would come here. He's waited for you some hours."
"But… who?" Ashe asked.
"Hello, Lady Ashe."
Everyone turned to see the newcomer as he pushed his way through the tent flap. There in the firelight, dressed in all the garish attire of an Archadian noble, stood young Lord Larsa, fourth-born son of Emperor Gramis, prince of the Archadian Empire.
"Larsa?" Penelo said with a gasp.
"Penelo?" Larsa snapped his gaze from the Ashe to Penelo, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm with the princess," Penelo replied.
"Why are you here?" Ashe asked.
"Don't worry, princess," Balthier said. "I'm sure if the Empire wanted to dispose of us, they'd send more than a little boy, assuming he is here alone."
If Larsa took offense at Balthier's comment, he didn't show it. He certainly acted far more mature than he looked.
"He's right; I'm not here to fight, and I have come alone," Larsa said, calm and suave the whole way. "I want to speak with you, Lady Ashe, on matters of importance to both our countries."
"Alright," Ashe said, trying to sound like a diplomat. "What is it?"
"I know very little of what went on in the sandsea," Larsa said, "but from what I gathered in Archades and what I heard just now, you have the Dawn Shard, and will use it to aid Ondore's resistance, correct?"
"Yes," Ashe said after some hesitation.
Larsa sighed. "Lady Ashe, you see, Archadia and Rozarria have had tense relations for a very long time. We have struggled to keep the peace for many years. If you and Ondore begin your rebellion now, Rozarria will have the perfect pretense to declare war. They come to help you, then sweep through to attack Archadia. Lady Ashe, do you see what I'm saying?"
Balthier certainly did. That wouldn't be pretty.
"Archadia destroyed Dalmasca!" Ashe replied. "They put us through that pain! Why should I help keep them from war?"
"Because Dalmasca would be the battlefield!" Larsa replied. "Lady Ashe, the war would be fought on your lands, among your people!"
"And what about nethicite?" Balthier joined in. "Archadia took a big blow when their eighth fleet went down. I wouldn't be surprised if they were forced to pull out the big guns. They have the Dusk Shard and the manufactured nethicite. Do you want Rabanastre to end up looking like the eighth fleet, Ashe?"
Ashe's angry resolve wavered, and she stared at the ground.
"My father would never do that!" Larsa said.
"And what about your brother?" Balthier asked. "You think Vayne would hesitate?"
"My father rules Archadia," Larsa replied. "Even so, my brother wouldn't…" Larsa trailed off, doubt crossing his face for the first time Balthier had seen. "Maybe he would. He's more obsessed with those stones every day. He's… changed. Maybe he would use them."
"It's been done before," Balthier said, bitter memories streaking through his mind. "How do you think all this madness started? There was nethicite at Nabudis, when it went up in flames. That should never happen again."
"The stones do hold power to corrupt," the great-chief said, joining the debate. "Maybe it is not my place to say, but… If it is they that caused this problem, then perhaps by destroying them, you could cure it."
"Well, that sounds nice," Balthier said. "If only it were possible. If the nethicite can survive the kind of destruction it causes, I doubt much could break it."
"I've heard stories of an ancient relic of Raithwall's," the great-chief said. "The Sword of Kings. A blade given him of the Occuria, with which they carved the three Shards. It may be that could shatter the stones."
"Well, is it real?" Balthier asked. "And if it is, do you know where it is?" Something inside him tingled at the thought of watching those stones fall to pieces; they'd enough lives, and to put a stop to it once and for all…
"It is as real as the Shards," the great-chief replied. "I've heard it lies in a shrine to the south, in Jagd Difor."
"That's not a lot of direction," Balthier said with a sigh.
"I know." The great-chief thought for a moment. "I heard the legend first from the Grand Kiltias. Do you know of the kiltias?"
"I've heard of them," Balthier replied. "Some sort of cult hiding in some remote region of Jagd Difor."
"The kiltias order dedicates themselves to preserving ancient lore and arts," the great-chief said. "If anyone knows where this shrine lies, the Grand-Kiltias will. They live south of here, on Mount Bur-Omisace, past Golmore Jungle and the Paramina Rift. Not an easy journey."
"But by finding this sword," Basch said, "we could destroy the nethicite, cripple the Empire, and stop a disastrous war."
"And then, Lady Ashe," Larsa walked straight up to her, looking up to meet her eyes, "it is my hope you would be willing to negotiate with my father. I must confess…" Larsa sighed. "Before all this began, my brother, Vayne, he spoke with my father about relics of great power that rested in Dalmasca. I never realized before, but as I thought about it… We invaded because he wanted the nethicite. I don't want to believe Vayne would do such things, or that my father would listen, but… Princess, if all the nethicite is gone, so will be the means and the desire for any hold over your kingdom. There could be a treaty, and then-"
"No!" Ashe cut him off. "If Rozarria would help us, then maybe we could win! Archadia took so much from us… Basch, you know!" Tears glittered in her eyes as Ashe turned to the knight. "They destroyed your home, killed your family! And Rasler… You can't tell me… I should just let them get away with it! How can that be right?"
"Lady Ashe." Larsa pulled her attention back to him. "Yes, I am asking you to choose between justice and peace. And the choice is yours."
"But…" Ashe shook her head, struggling for words. "I… I…" She looked away, unable to hold Larsa's gaze as this little boy held his composure better than her.
"Princess Ashe," Basch said. "You know very well what horrors war can bring. So many know that pain now. If we could stop it, save but one person from those horrors, from enduring the struggle we have…"
"But what about Rasler? And Father?" Ashe said. "What about Vossler? What about everyone who's died fighting Archadia? How can we let them all down?"
"You're hardly letting them down by bringing peace," Balthier said. "Ashe, if my opinion matters to you at all, I think… this is it. No more chasing our tails. End it all, finally."
"But… But…"
"Ashe…" Balthier didn't want to get rough, but… "There's a lot more at stake here than you or your kingdom. This is everyone, everywhere, a thousand other people who can die and hurt just as easily as you or I." Reina's face flashed in his mind, a final smile… She hadn't known they'd never see each other again. "No more indecision. This time I won't…" Balthier trailed off, forcing himself back to the present and locking gazes with Ashe. "You can save or take a lot of lives with your next actions, Ashe. What'll it be?"
"I… I…" Ashe stammered. "I don't know!" She hung her head.
"Princess, take time and think about it," Basch said, walking up to Ashe and resting a hand on her shoulder. He looked up to address the great-chief. "Can we stay the night in the village?"
"Certainly," the great-chief replied. "We haven't had guests in a great many years. Our accommodations are few, but you're all welcome to stay the night. In fact…" he signaled to Supinelu, who'd watched the whole debate silently. "We'll have a celebration in honor of our visitors. War-chief, have preparations made, won't you?"
Supinelu bowed slightly. "As you wish." He turned to the group of visitors. "Come on, I'll show you where you can stay."
"Thank you ever so much," Larsa said, bowing to the great-chief, then to Supinelu. The great-chief nodded, and Supinelu started out the tent. Basch led Ashe after him, Vaan, Penelo, Fran, Larsa, and Balthier following after.