"Well, that was short and unpleasant," Braska remarked, referring to their earlier confrontation with the temple leader. They were walking down the stairs of the residential wing of the temple, having just changed out of their formal clothes, and into more casual clothes in the room they had been assigned. They were wearing dark pants, low boots, and sleeveless shirts because of the warm climate. "I hope Rin is able to arrange things quickly so we can get out of here; maybe he can get the Al Bhed supply ship to come back early and we won't have to deal with the High Priest again. I don't think he liked us much."
"Probably not," Auron answered, settling his sword belt more comfortably across his back. "Where do you want to go now? We've checked into the residency, and the whole afternoon's open."
"I'd like to see the temple, and the new fayth," Braska replied promptly. "Maester Mica asked me to look at it, since I'm a Summoner, and send him a report. Some odd things have been happening since it appeared, and he wants an unbiased opinion." He looked around, orienting himself on the mental map he'd built, then pointed them down a path leading away to the west. Soon, the huge dome of the hall of prayers appeared, rising out of a circle of smaller domed buildings. They crossed an arm of the sea by way of a curving bridge, and climbed a flight of wide stairs, to enter the building through an arched entryway.
Braska looked up, way up, bending back slightly to see the high vaulted ceiling of the main prayer chamber of Baaj temple. This huge circular room was much larger than the main chambers in most temples, and seemed to be built in two different styles blended together, the familiar symbols of Yevon mixed with carvings in an older style. Swirls of blue and green mosaic tiles, like stylized waves, covered the floor and reached up the walls to meet a strip of carvings, a repeating pattern of squared knots, running in a wide band along the bottom edge of a narrow ledge overhanging the main floor. Bright red banners hung from the ledge, nearly touching the tiled floor. Tall but narrow doorways framed by ornate stone carvings of seaweeds and shells, painted in greens and blues, were on either side of a set of wide stairs guarded by huge statues of Yunalesca and her beloved husband, Lord Zaon. The stairs led to a massive covered archway, closed off by a set of double doors carved with a glyph. A thin stream of water cascaded down from a carved notch in the ledge, to strike a shallow bowl set in the top of the arch and flow down beside the stairs into a narrow channel that circled the entire hall with a rippling band of water; the echo's of falling water filled the dome with a constant whisper of sound.
"So Auron, have you seen enough yet?" Braska asked his guardian. He nodded towards the entry to the inner chambers and waited till Auron started forward, falling in behind him as they climbed the wet stairs and walked under the streaming waterfall to open the sturdy doors and push them back.
A short passage beneath the waterfall arch led to a smaller rectangular chamber; large slabs of dark stone, intricately carved with the glyphs of the aeons and familiar symbols of protection, were arranged to form a line on either side of the room, torches set in stands on both sides of each casting flickering shadow's across the low vaulted ceiling. Another longer passageway at the far end led into a smaller domed room, the once empty chamber of the fayth. This temple, unlike the other temples of Yevon across Spira, had no statues of past High Summoners, and no cloister of trials. It had never before contained an actual fayth, that room being used as a private prayer chamber, until two years ago when a woman with an odd looking child had visited the temple on pilgrimage. The next day, the child was discovered unconscious, lying alone in a no longer empty chamber of the fayth. The child's name was Seymour. The priests at Baaj had eventually sent him to Bevelle, not knowing what else to do with the odd child.
"This place feels strange for some reason," Auron spoke softly, as they walked through the second room containing the carved glyphs. They looked into the dark tunnel leading into the next room; no light was visible from the chamber of the fayth, and Auron stopped to light a spare torch from one set in a bracket beside the door. They entered the last passageway, Auron in the lead with the torch, leaving the sound of the waterfall behind. "I don't know why, but something just feels off," he repeated, glancing from side to side warily; it felt as if they were entering a tomb.
"Well, it certainly is different than the other temples we've been in before." Braska admitted, reaching out to touch the carvings on the wall of the passage, tracing first the symbol for Bahamat, then the one for Ixion. He saw that there were carvings for all the Aeons he knew, as well as some he hadn't seen before and motioned for Auron to hold the torch closer. "These four symbols here…," Braska said, pointing the unfamiliar ones out for Auron, "…are ones I don't recognize."
Auron held his torch back higher, and then pointed to a strip of writing that ran along the very top of the wall, carved on both sides of the passage above the other markings. "What does that say? I don't recognize the writing."
"It's written in one of the old scripts used in Zanarkand; I learned to read it when I was assigned to the archives - you want me to translate this for you?" Braska asked, and began to read at Auron's nod. "Lets see, if I remember right it says, 'We know what we are… but know not what we… may be… we hold our fayth as a… shield… and as a weapon," He stopped and brushed dust out of the carving on the other side of the passage. "Here it says, '…Sin stands before us… but our eyes are closed in… dreaming…Open them that we may see Sins true form and atone," Braska finished in a soft voice. "I think that is right, but the letters are damaged on this side, as if someone has chipped at them – hold the torch to the side so there's more shadow." Braska complained, wiping the dust off his fingers with the kerchief Auron handed him, and then returning to the inscription to read it again silently. "I don't understand – who is dreaming?" He looked at Auron in puzzlement. "I've seen this quote before, it's from the first Teachings, but the words are different."
"What did the other quote say?" Auron asked, tucking the kerchief back into his pocket.
He tapped his finger on the last part of the line, "In the old copy of the Teachings Isaw in the archives, it is written: 'We know what we are, but not what we may be. We hold our faith as a shield and as a weapon. Our sins stand before us, but we sleep. Open our eyes that we may see our sins true form and repent'…very strange." Braska stood a moment, considering the difference such a small change in the wording made, and wondering why this verse had been important enough to be painstakingly cut into stone like this, and then try to destroy. "Maybe I am translating it wrong…," he said in a puzzled tone of voice, then shook his head. "I'll take a look in the temple library later and see if I can find a reference to this. Come on, let's finish here."
They moved on, and entered the darkened chamber, stopping suddenly as they saw the form of the fayth embedded in the floor; the flickering torch light cast shadows across it and made the strangely twisted figure writhe as if in unbearable pain. An oppressive silence filled the room, broken only by an almost subliminal whispering, or rustling, as if someone had shifted restlessly in their sleep.
"Spooky," Auron said with a shiver, as a draft trailed cold fingers across his neck and made the torch flare and sputter. He turned quickly away from the fayth to look at the chamber walls, looking for other torches to light. "This looks a lot older than the outer temple somehow. The designs are totally different," he added, not finding any other torches or even brackets for them on the walls.
"It…feels…different than the others, too," Braska said in a whisper. "This one feels almost… tormented." He knelt down beside the strange fayth, placed one hand on the clear covering and closed his eyes for a long moment, reaching out with the special sense that made him a Summoner. Auron leaned forward, watching over Braska's shoulder as the fayth began to glow faintly, almost indiscernibly. "Very strange," Braska said finally, and then suddenly stood up, making Auron flinch and quickly step back, knocking his sword against the wall with a clang and making the torch flicker and almost go out. "Let's go Auron – I've seen enough for now."
They left, walking quickly out of the inner chambers and back down the stairs to the main hall of prayers, both somehow in a hurry to stand in the sun again. The sense of being watched hung heavy over them both as they left. Braska walked over the curved bridge ahead of Auron and turned towards the residential section of the temple at a split in the pathway. Auron stopped for a moment and gazed westward down the other path at the waves splashing on a distant breakwater. "Braska, lets stay outside for a while? I don't think I want to go back into the temple quite yet," he said and shivered again, cold despite the warm sunshine beaming down on them, then rubbed the back of his neck – trying to make the small hairs lay down.
"All right," Braska agreed quietly, returning to where Auron stood, "Let's take a walk around the island first." He turned to follow the other path towards the fishing village. "I think I would like to see what else is here, and maybe get some lunch?" He seemed to cheer up at the prospect, so Auron went along with the idea, even though he was still too uneasy to be hungry. Maybe the most disturbing thing about how he felt…was he didn't know why he was disturbed.
"Sure," Auron answered, looking back at the temple, half expecting someone to be following them. "A couple fish rolls would be nice." He looked ahead and spotted a lone figure in faded priests robes sitting on the edge of the seawall beside the pathway. "Look," Auron said, pointing out the old man. "Maybe he knows where we can buy some lunch?"
The two friends strolled unhurriedly along beside the low stone wall, watching as the incoming tide stirred brightly colored seaweeds, and small fish darted among the drifting stems. Odd seabirds glided through the air above them, their high pitched shrieks splitting the otherwise peaceful day. Braska and Auron stopped to watch as two of the birds fought over a dead fish on the pathway in front of them, flapping black wings wildly at each other and stirring up the sand, the puff of purple feathers on their heads bobbing as they snapped hooked beaks. Finally one triumphed and flew away with the fish, leaving the other shrieking furiously until it flapped after its opponent.
"Them grittle birds sure are noisy, aren't they," the old priest said as Braska and Auron walked towards where he sat comfortably on the wall, his old fashioned robes pulled up, bare sun browned feet dangling in the water; a fishing line trailed into the shallow water off a short fishing pole. "They's always fighting about something." He pointed to where several of the birds were fighting over a piece of dried seaweed, with much flapping and constant ear piercing shrieks.
"They do have a certain charm though," Braska said with a smile, as the smaller one of the three took off with the hank of seaweed while his larger brothers pecked at each other, making a triumphant burbling sound. "What are you fishing for?" he added, looking into the water curiously.
"Not fishing for anything," the old priest said with a sly grin, lifting his pole to show that the line ended in a small weight instead of a hook. "I've found that most everyone will leave me alone to think, if it looks like I'm fishing." He chuckled to himself at his clever subterfuge. "My name's Tomoris, most everyone calls me Tomi," he added with a smile, and then looked at Braska, his eyes turning sharp. "You're the new ambassador from Bevelle, aren't you?" he asked, nodding when they looked surprised. "Word got around." His expression turned serious and he pursed his wrinkled lips as he observed them for a moment. "Balamus can't be very happy about you being here; he's had things his way for a long time, and he isn't likely to let you take his place without a fight," Tomi warned grimly. "You'd better be careful, he isn't a very nice man, and his secretary is a conniving weasel."
Braska looked at Tomi thoughtfully, and then nodded in understanding. Tomi appeared to be in his eighty's; a thin man of only moderate height, his sun browned face wrinkled with what seemed to be mostly smile lines. Twinkling brown eyes peered out from beneath bristly white eyebrows, which blended into the wispy hair sticking out at all angles on his head. His robes were oddly cut, in a style not used by the priesthood for a long time. He seemed amused by Braska's curious gaze and smiled slightly.
"You appear to know a lot about what goes on in the temple," Braska stated, waving to indicate the temple buildings behind them. "Can you tell me something about the history of the prayer hall and cloister? It's not built the way the other temples are and I'm curious as to the reason." He brushed sand off the wall and sat down beside the old man, his back to the water, half turned to face him. Auron took a seat on a nearby rock, watching the antics of the shrieking birds, but listening intently.
"Its different because the Bevelle Temple didn't build it is why!" Tomi answered promptly. "It was built by a small group of priests sent here in secret from Zanarkand, just before the end of the war. Things were a big mess on the mainland and that bunch in Bevelle weren't quite as powerful as they are now, so they were able to slip out. It was mostly just ruins here even then, from when the land sank in an earthquake."
Braska raised his eyebrows in surprise. "There's not much about Baaj in the histories that I've read; they speak of a group of Yevon's priests who washed up here about a hundred years after the war, when a storm blew their ship into the westward current, but nothing was said of there being a temple here already."
"Nah, that bunch didn't build it; the glyph hall, and the chamber of the fayth were here already – not that there was a fayth of course, it was supposed to be moved later, to keep it safe…" Tomi continued. "The Zanarkand priests were supposed to go back and get one of the fayth from their temple – they were all in one place then, in what you now call Yunalesca's temple," he explained. "They never got back I guess, because the temple was pretty much in ruins when the others got here; the priests from Bevelle recruited workers from Kilika and Besaid, and built their temple over the top of what was here." He gazed out across the breakwater at the sea, and then muttered sadly. "Ironic that Zanarkand fought so hard to keep Bevelle from getting the aeons, and now they have them anyway."
"Do you know who did the carvings in the passage to the chamber of the fayth?" Braska inquired hopefully. "It seems to be a variation on one of the first Teachings, and I was wondering when it was done."
"The quotation you mean?" Tomi snorted and waved his hand dismissively. "That was there when the priests from Bevelle got here. The version in the Teachings is something they came up with all on their own," he said with annoyance. "Damn fools!" The old man looked up at the sun, gauging the time, then lifted his fishing pole out of the water and wrapped the string around the end. "Time to get back to the temple," he said, swinging his legs back over the wall and nimbly climbing to his feet. "I've got things to do."
"Thank you for sharing your knowledge, sir," Braska said, standing to bow formally to the old priest. "A favor, please?" he asked politely. "Is there anywhere in the village we might get lunch?"
Tomi smiled with pleasure for the courtesy, and told them where a small tavern that served food was in the village, then he started off down the path towards the temple with a jaunty wave, pleased with what he'd seen of the two young men. "This should be interesting," Tomi thought with a laugh, knowing what the newcomer's reception in the village was likely to be. "Let's see how they handle it, hum?" Braska and Auron turned the other way and started walking towards the village. Braska was quiet for a long while, and Auron looked questioningly at him several times before he finally broke his silence.
"I don't know whether to believe him or not, Auron," Braska sighed at last. "If what he says is true, then the doctrine we have been taught to believe may be…" he hesitated, trying out different words in his mind before he finished his thought. "…may have had the meaning distorted from the original Teachings," he finished finally, giving his friend a troubled look. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to admit he had doubts about the truth of the Teachings; although he'd found many contradictions during his research through the oldest written records, places where the wording had gradually changed, the difference in the fundamental meaning of this quotation could not be reasoned away.
Auron looked back at him silently, equally troubled by the thought. They had both been brought up believing in the Teachings, but Braska had turned his focus inward over the last couple years, becoming a scholar as well as a priest, and spending long dusty hours digging through nearly forgotten storerooms for moldering records from the earliest days of the temple, always questioning what he read – seeking the meanings within the words, the intent behind the explanations. Auron had turned his attention outwards, gaining skill with weapons and becoming one of the best swordsmen of his generation; eventually being promoted to Captain of the Guard of the most prestigious Temple on Spira. Their lives had taken different directions, but he still trusted Braska, even when he spoke what many would consider blasphemy. He turned to look behind them, and was surprised that the old priest was already out of sight.
The village was fairly small, about the size of Kilika, but the houses seemed to huddle together in small groups, with narrow windows looking like suspicious eyes; as if they had turned their back on the rest of the world. They drew angry, resentful stares from the people they passed as they followed the path between the groups of houses, looking for the tavern the old man had mentioned. Finally locating it near the floating docks where a number of small fishing boats were tied, they sat down at a battered table set outside the door, under an awning. A skinny middle aged woman reluctantly emerged from inside, wiping her hands on a dirty apron.
"What can I get you, sirs?" she asked grudgingly. "You're late come for lunch, all we have left is the fish stew."
"The stew will be fine, missus," Auron answered, wondering why everyone was looking at them with such suspicion. "Do you have any wine?" he asked hopefully.
The woman shook her head, and headed back inside, to emerge momentarily with two wooden bowls full of a greasy looking stew. Slapping it down on the table in front of them, she said, "That'll be two gil." She reached into a pocket in her apron and dropped two metal spoons on the table beside the bowls. Braska picked one up and looked at it doubtfully as Auron placed two coins in her outstretched hand. The woman looked the coins over carefully before dropping them in her pocket and returning inside without a backward glance.
"Somehow, I don't think this stew is going to match what we'd get in the Arakia," Auron said, referring to their favorite restaurant in Bevelle. He dipped a spoonful of greasy fish out of the bowl, but let it drip back off the spoon without tasting it. "Kilikanese cuisine this certainly isn't."
Braska was still trying to get the glob of dried-on food off his spoon, but he finally laid it down in disgust. "I can't imagine what Tomi was thinking, to tell us there was a place to eat here," Braska said quietly, looking over at his friend. "I think I have some of the smoked fish and the salt crackers left in my trunk," he suggested. Anything was better than risking the stew they had just bought, and it wasn't all that long till dinner after all. Smiling in agreement, the two pushed their chairs back and started back down the path towards the temple.
"And just where do you think yer going!" a voice whined from beside one of the houses. Braska and Auron turned, to see several scruffy men leaning against barrels. The largest one, apparently the leader of the group, flexed his brawny arms and shifted a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other and grinned evilly.
"You heard him, where you going in such a hurry?" the leader repeated, pausing to spit on the ground noisily. "Yer not from around here, are ye?" There were several sniggers from the other men, and Auron spotted movement between another set of houses as several other men stepped out to stand blocking the path with their arms crossed.
"We don't like strangers around here, do we?" the ringleader snarled, to growls of agreement from the gathering crowd of men. "Care to show them a bit of our 'hospitality' boys?" The men started closing in on Braska and Auron, gripping boat hooks, knives, and long spiked poles, which were probably fishing spears of some sort.
Auron sighed; shaking his head in disgust when it was evident the fight was unavoidable. "Let's get this over with," he said, drawing his sword and settling into a ready stance in one smooth motion. Braska quirked one eyebrow at Auron and shifted his eyes to the left. Auron nodded slightly. "Just try not to kill anyone," Auron said with a small smile.
Braska shrugged, and then kicked sideways at the man nearest to him, making him drop the seven foot fish spear he was holding. Braska caught it mid fall and swung it around, just in time for Auron to obligingly strike it at the base of the sharpened tip, cutting it off with a single swing of his sword; leaving a smooth length of wood that looked remarkably like a bo in Braska's hands. Braska grinned and turned to put his back against Auron's, and then spun the bo with an expert hand over hand motion, hitting a man attacking him from the side on the chin with a quick jab of the end, snapping his head back and dropping him like a rock. The others roared with anger and closed in on the two strangers.
Auron reached out like a snake, slapping one of the larger men across the ribs with the flat of his blade, making him drop his knife and sending him staggering into the man next to him, knocking both down in a tangle. A follow up swing of the sword chopped through the spear their neighbor was thrusting forward, leaving him staring in astonishment at the scrap of wood left in his hand, barely longer than his gripping fingers. Auron broke the next one's nose, and probably jaw as well, with a quick punch with the pommel of his sword. A new man stepped into the fight and stabbed at him with a boat hook, trying to hit his legs without getting within reach of the sword, while a second swung a makeshift machete at Auron's other side. Auron swung his sword up to block the machete, sending it flying and taking several of the man's fingers with it. The return swing blocked a strike from the longer boat hook, then he stepped inside the man's guard and punched once, straight into the fisherman's ale bloated gut, doubling him over and sending him staggering out of the fight, a side kick hurrying him on his way, head first into the side of a nearby house.
Several men tried to attack Braska at the same time, thinking him the weaker target, but Braska swung the bo into a series of coordinated blocks, making it slice through the air in an impenetrable shield. Then shifting his grip, he lashed out, catching them beside the head, one after the other, before they could react. They dropped where they stood, unconscious.
The gang leader, seeing the way the fight was going, flipped the knife he was holding and threw it at Braska's back. Auron slapped it out of the air with an expert swing of his sword, and then reached to set the tip in the hollow of the man's throat. Seeing this, most of the men remaining in the fight dropped their weapons and backed up, hands in the air to indicate their unwillingness to carry the fight further.
"Call your friends off, before we have to hurt someone," Auron ordered his captive in a steely voice. Voice shaking, his eyes wide with fear, the leader told his men to quit fighting. Auron held his captive at sword point until the last man had dropped his weapon and cleared the area.
"How about we take a little walk?" Auron suggested, tapping the man on the cheek with the flat of his sword, then nudging him around towards the pathway to the temple by pressing the blade against the side of his neck. "We wouldn't want any of your friends to get excited and make another mistake, would we?" They walked slowly through the village, Auron keeping the tip of his sword resting lightly on a spot between his hostage's shoulder blades, a ready reminder for him to mind his manners. Finally reaching the last house, Auron told him to turn around, and placed the sword tip against his throat once more. Braska brought the makeshift bo upright, setting the end on the ground and leaning casually against it, with the air of one watching an entertaining stage show.
"Nobody was killed in your little game, but I suggest you think a second time before you try again," Auron warned with an icy expression on his face, wiping a trace of blood off his blade using the shirt on the man's shoulder. "I don't think I'll be as careful next time." The man gulped, catching the meaning of the swordsman's words clearly. Auron stepped back and slid the sword into the sheath on his back without looking; making an eerie 'shiiinnng' as razor sharp metal kissed its way into the sheath. Released, the man turned and took to his heels, happy to have escaped with his life.
"We were set up," Braska said, idly spinning his bo, clipping the heads off an occasional tuft of grass as they walked. "Someone put them up to the attack."
Auron nodded, knowing his friend was right. "Two guesses as to who, and the first doesn't count," he agreed. "It was pretty quick work too."
"We may not be able to wait till the supply ship comes back," Braska suggested, thinking through their alternatives. He remembered seeing several small sailboats at the village, both of them had sailed that type of ship before, in their younger days in Bevelle, and then later when they were stationed with the Crusaders in Luca. Leaving early would not be a problem, but he had some questions he still needed answers to.
"Not a problem," Auron grunted, having seen the boats as well. "When do you want to do it?"
"I want to take a look around the temple first, so maybe in a couple days, depending on what I find," Braska answered. "I have a lot of questions and I'd like a few answers to go with them," he continued grimly. Maester Mica had warned him that the situation at Baaj could be dangerous, but Braska had agreed to go anyway, because his mentor had believed him and Auron to be the most likely to succeed. "Maester Mica has suspected the reports he's received from Baaj for quite awhile, he thinks High Priest Balamus is using his position to destroy any possibility of an alliance with the Al Bhed, and make them withdraw from contact with Bevelle."
Night had come, and the residency hall of the temple had finally fallen silent, except for the faint sound of bare feet padding down the hallway towards Braska and Auron's darkened room. Auron cracked the door open slightly as the sounds came nearer, and observed the old man from the seawall approaching; watching as he stopped to smell a flower from the arrangement on a pedestal to one side of the hall before moving on. Auron waited until he came closer and passed the door, then reached one long arm out and grabbed the back of the faded robe, tugging the elderly priest inside their room and shutting the door softly behind his captive.
"Take it easy, old man, nobody's going to hurt you," Auron said reassuringly as the old man struggled to get free, releasing his hold on the robes as Braska lit the lamp to brighten the room. "We just want to talk to you for a few minutes."
"So, nobody else will answer your questions, huh?" Tomi muttered, straightening his clothes with a resentful glance at Auron, and then walking over to perch on Auron's bed, pulling his dirty feet up to sit cross-legged, his elbows resting on his knees, chin resting on his intertwined fingers. "I wondered how long it would take you to figure that out."
"I must admit I'm quite curious about you, Tomi, or should I call you Lord Tomoris, or would Summoner Tomoris be better?" Braska asked, bowing his head respectfully at the old priest. Auron's eyes glinted in the light as he watched from his position beside the door, and they widened slightly as the old man suddenly straightened, his whole manner changing.
"My, my, you have been busy, haven't you?" Tomi said approvingly. "You must have had to dig pretty deeply in the histories to figure that out. I'm impressed!" He smiled at Braska, lifting one bushy eyebrow roguishly. "I thought you'd be too busy dodging Balamus," he said with amusement.
Auron looked questioningly at Braska, not sure what was going on.
"Our guest is a lot older than he looks, Auron," Braska explained calmly, "Several hundred years older, if the histories are correct." Braska and Tomi continued to look at each other, neither one backing down from the challenge. "And I think he knows a lot more about the situation here than he admits." Tomi smiled mysteriously, turning to look at Auron when the other gasped softly, realizing what the old man was – an unsent.
"Well, you've caught me out," the unsent priest said calmly. "Took you long enough. I might have some answers for you…if you ask the right questions. Where would you like to start?"
"Why was the original temple built; this island had to be almost impossible to reach, and it would have been totally isolated during the war?" Braska queried. "Why did they come here, when they would have been needed so badly on the mainland?"
"Perhaps because protecting the fayth from Bevelle was more important to them?" Tomi said with a shrug. "I never did find that out, you'll have to ask someone else that question."
"Why is this fayth so much different than the others," Braska asked after a pause to consider what answers he really needed. "I touched it, and it was in pain, almost tortured," he added, his expression troubled.
"Oh, so you are a Summoner – I had wondered!" Tomi exclaimed. "I thought you would have figured the answer out by now, since she has been following you around since you got here."
"Who has been following Braska?" Auron asked sharply. "I haven't seen anyone…" But he wondered, remembering all the times over the last three or four days he's half seen movement out of the corner of his eye, only to see an empty hallway or path when he turned to look. The times he'd felt like someone was watching them, but seen no-one.
"The fayth, of course," Tomi replied sharply, exasperated at the man's denseness. "She's not happy, and she's walking the temple, not asleep like the rest of them. I think she wants to talk to you, but can't for some reason."
"Can you talk to her, Tomi?" Braska asked softly. "Find out why she is so troubled?" Suddenly the whispered conversations he'd overheard, the pale, wild eyed acolytes they'd seen occasionally in the halls began to make sense. They thought they were being haunted! Auron stirred by the door, reaching up to rub his hand across the back of his neck, soothing the hairs that were suddenly standing on end.
"No, we aren't on the same level," the priest admitted sheepishly. "I can see her, but she doesn't even notice me. You'll have to take care of this yourself," he added. "And I think you'd better do it quickly, because Balamus is going to step up the attacks on you both, beyond the occasional dropped cornice or tripwire on the stairs. The Al Bhed supply ship is due the day after tomorrow, and he doesn't want you on it."
"He wouldn't dare kill us!" Auron exclaimed. "The council knows we got here, Braska sent a letter confirming our arrival with the courier ship that left this morning, and Maester Mica would send troops if we disappeared now."
"Nope, the letter never left the temple, its ashes in Balamus's fireplace," Tomi stated firmly. "He had his pet weasel take it out of the dispatch pouch before the ship left; as far as the council knows, you never arrived."
"That isn't good, Braska," Auron said, stating the obvious. "We need to get out of here now, while we can."
"Looks like you need to go talk to someone first," Tomi said. "If she won't come to you, you'll have to go to her."
Getting into the hall of prayer had been easy, the entire temple was deserted at this late hour, with everyone locked safely in their rooms. The chamber of the fayth was dark and silent as before, but this time Auron and Braska had each brought one of the torch stands from the glyph room; the room was much lighter with two torches, but they flickered and guttered as soon as they were set down, in an unfelt breeze. The silence was different this time; there was almost a sense of waiting to it. The temperature suddenly began to drop; the warmth of their breath creating fog as they exhaled. Auron looked at Braska with wide eyes, but Braska could only shake his head, just as puzzled as he was.
"Will you be all right here?" Auron asked. Braska nodded, so Auron left the chamber to take up a position guarding the entry to the glyph room. If anyone came into the hall of prayer, he could give Braska enough warning to get out of the small room and hide.
Braska moved to the side of the fayth, sinking down to kneel beside it. He closed his eyes and began to take deep measured breaths, entering a prayerful trance as he attempted to contact the fayth. A white fog began to rise from the fayth, condensing into a ghostly figure; its arms tied in a crossed position on its chest, clawed fingers grasping at nothing, a tattered shroud covering its face, leaving revealed only a mouth screaming in agony and crazed eyes peering through ragged holes. Chains wrapped around its neck and bound it to the floor, pulling it downwards, even as it fought to rise higher into the chamber. The form began to change, becoming more real – the shroud disappearing to reveal the face of a woman's, half turned away from him; dark hair hanging limply beside a bloodless cheek. The arms dropped, revealing the handle of a knife protruding from her chest. The face suddenly contorted in pain, then the knife disappeared, and the figure became one familiar to Braska. Lady Reena stood before them, her eyes closed, a look of pain and terrible sadness twisting her face.
"If you have come for my aeon, I will not give it to you!" an anguished voice sobbed. "You can not have it!"
"No, I will not ask that of you," Braska answered, his voice shaky. "You were seeking me…will you speak with me now?" He waited, taking a deep breath as the fayth opened her eyes and looked at him.
"What can you tell me of my son?" the fayth asked softly. "Is he well? I worry so much…I can not see him, he is so far away…is he happy?"
"Your son," Braska paused to remember. "Seymour? He does well, and studies at the temple in Bevelle. I believe he is happy there."
"I have worried since the priests here sent him away," she explained. "Being half human and half Guado is so hard for him – he does not fit in either world. I only tried to protect him…" the fayth said pleadingly, putting her hands to her face and sobbing quietly. "I suffered as Jiskal's wife, accepted his abuse for Seymour's sake, because his power kept Seymour safe…but one day he started beating Seymour as well, and I couldn't take it; so I ran away, taking Seymour with me. All I wanted was a way for him to be accepted, so he would not suffer the rejection of both the cultures he was meant to bridge. What did I do that was so wrong!" she questioned, falling to her knees, openly crying now. "I thought if I became a fayth, Seymour could use my power to defeat Sin, and he would be accepted." She looked up blindly, tears running down her cheeks. "I went to Zanarkand, to Yunalesca, to ask her to make me a fayth, but her price was too high!"
"What do you mean, Yunalesca's price was too high?" Braska questioned carefully. "What did she ask of you"?
She cried for a moment more, then focused on Braska and held her hands out towards him pleadingly. "You have to understand – I couldn't do it. She said that in order for me to become a fayth, to become Seymour's aeon so he could call me, Seymour would have to die as well! The Summoner releases his life force to summon the final aeon, and I could not do it to my son! So I left without the answer I had traveled so far to find."
"What!" Braska exclaimed in confusion. "But I don't understand; Lord Zaon, Yunalesca's husband, is the final aeon!"
"No, that is what the priests in Bevelle want you to think. His soul is gone, there is no final aeon except the one Yunalesca creates for each summoner that makes it as far as her temple," Lady Reena said wearily, to Braska. "Yunalesca changes someone into the fayth for the final summoning – she needs a strong bond between the Summoner and the one chosen; so the Summoner must sacrifice a friend…or someone they love, and then they die."
Braska looked on in horror as Lady Reena's words sank in. What she had said just wasn't possible – that the final aeon was a lie; that the Summoner must always die to defeat Sin and bring the calm.
"How did you become a fayth then, if Yunalesca did not tell you the way?" Braska asked finally, not sure he wanted to know now, but sensing Lady Reena needed to tell him.
"I had taken a small sailboat from Besaid to Zanarkand, so Seymour and I returned to the island afterwards. We didn't have anywhere else to go, you see. I thought I could take Seymour somewhere without many people, where Jiskal would never find us, so I took passage to Baaj. I had a long time to think on the trip here, and I realized that there must be another way – after all, the fayth existed before Yunalesca was born." She sighed, lifting her head to look at Braska. "I found an old book in the temple library, which talked about the origins of the fayth. It said they sacrificed themselves …so I came here, to this consecrated chamber…but I didn't understand; their sacrifice was to protect others, not for personal gain - I committed suicide." She slumped back, rubbing the tears from her face wearily. "I understand now…what I did was wrong… They sacrificed themselves for the good of others, and became powerful aeons, I sacrificed myself selfishly, to make my son powerful, and now I will suffer for all eternity, never reaching the Farplane."
"Why can't the other fayth stop Sin?" Braska demanded, his mind back on what she's said before. "If they are so powerful, why can't they beat Sin?"
"They are asleep." She sighed sadly, and began to turn back into mist as he watched in stunned silence. "They have existed too long, they dream of the Spira that was, before the war destroyed it." Speaking one last time, just before she faded totally away, she begged, "Tell my son I love him?"
Braska exited the temple in a daze, nearly overcome by the knowledge he had gained. A sound to one side of the path, as if someone had coughed softly, sent Auron forward in a rush, his sword drawn. He slid silently around a pillar, to find Tomi sitting peacefully on a stone bench, eyes closed, his face turned upwards to the glow of the moon, a small shoulder bag on the ground beside his feet.
"So, did you get the answers you wanted?" the old man asked, without moving. "Or did you get the answers you needed, instead?" He turned his head to look at Braska. "Do you understand now why the scriptures have changed?"
"The church uses the threat of Sin to control the masses," Braska said wearily, leaning his head against the pillar. "It's all a lie, isn't it; the church doesn't want Sin defeated?" He sighed when Tomi nodded. "They would loose too much power if Sin was gone."
"The Teachings have been changed many times, I've seen it happen – a word here, a line there, always for the 'good of Spira'," Tomi said sadly. He nudged the bag with one dirty foot. "Here are some things from your room; your formal robes, and the diplomatic pouch, and this map showing the way to the excavation site I…umm - borrowed - from Balamus's office earlier," he said apologetically to Braska as he handed them the bag. "That's all I could bring, Balamus is making his move, and I barely got out past his men with this much." They all listened as faint sounds came from the direction of the residence hall; the footsteps of men running along the pathways. Voices called softly, as a stealthy search was organized, and none of the three doubted who the quarry was. "I suggest you leave now, while you have a chance."
"Thank you, Tomi," Braska said sincerely, bowing. "I will try to come back some day, to talk with you again."
"I'll be here," the old man said easily. "Now for some fun!" he added, rubbing his hands together gleefully before fading from sight. Moments later, a frightened yell sounded, off in the direction of the Temple's docks, and the searchers called out to each other and ran in that direction, leaving the way to the fishing village clear.
"Sounds like Tomi is giving us a diversion, let's get going!" Auron called softly to Braska as he started down the pathway towards the village. "We need to be well on the way before dawn, and fishermen start the day early."
"Let's go," Braska agreed, picking up the bag and setting the strap over his shoulder.