Author's Note: All italicized conversations are spoken in Al Bhed
The stars blazed in the crystal clear sky like a double handful of diamonds scattered across an infinite blackness. Braska lay on his back on the raised center deck of the sailboat; his head pillowed on his hands, knees bent, gazing up at them blankly. Auron watched him from his position at the tiller, wondering at his prolonged silence. Braska hadn't said much since they'd put to sea, several hours ago now, since dawn was just starting to brighten the eastern horizon, and Auron was getting worried.
"So, you going to tell me what happened with the fayth?" Auron murmured; taking a drink from the bottle of wine they'd liberated, along with some basic supplies, from the village tavern. "I'm assuming you did manage to find out something?"
Braska turned his head to look at his friend, but didn't respond for a long moment. "The fayth is Lady Reena." He hesitated, not knowing how to tell Auron the rest of what he'd discovered.
"Huh, I guess that explains why the kid showed up at Bevelle temple." Auron shifted, turning the tiller slightly as the wind changed direction, swinging the boom around on a leisurely tack. "I had wondered where his mother had gone – any idea why Maester Mica would block Lord Jiskal from retrieving him?"
Braska looked surprised. "I didn't realize he had…but I would imagine it was because the boy is a summoner who can call up a new aeon of unknown power," he explained. "I wouldn't want that loose in Spira either."
"What! But he can't be older than ten, maybe twelve?" Auron protested. "How did that happen?"
"His mother committed suicide in front of him, became a fayth as he watched presumably, and then forced her aeon on him."
"Yevon!" Auron protested in horror. "How cruel, to have done that to your own child!"
"She thought she was protecting him, giving him a way to gain acceptance and approval," Braska explained, turning his head back to look at the now rapidly lightening sky, still sickened at what he'd learned. "She has damned herself to eternal pain, and will never see the Farplane…and probably driven her child insane in the process." He sighed, then sat up and reached over to lift the bottle from Auron's loose grip; taking a large swallow of the cheap wine and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Oh, this is nasty! Was this the best they had?" He shuddered at the taste, but took another deep swallow before handing the bottle back to an astonished Auron.
Auron took the bottle back automatically, stunned as the implications hit him. A child with the power of an aeon at its call, especially one without an adult's sense of responsibility or emotional control…who might also be mentally imbalanced… The thought frightened him; as a summoner, Braska must be absolutely horrified.
Braska looked out across the sea as the sun rose slowly over the horizon. "Lady Reena also told me something important concerning the other fayth…" he paused, gathering his thoughts, knowing he could never tell Auron, or anyone else, everything she had said. "She said that 'they sleep and dream of the Spira that was, before the war destroyed it,' which might explain that quote in the passageway." Auron looked questioningly at him so he recited the phrase he meant. "'We hold our fayth as a shield and as a weapon, but our eyes are closed in dreaming.' What if that part about the 'dreaming' was speaking about the fayth?" He looked back at Auron, and continued. "I've been thinking about my translation, and it is possible that the word was 'their', not 'our' on that section; there is only a small difference in the symbols, and someone had tried to destroy that part of the script, so it wasn't really clear which way to read it."
Auron considered that, wondering how that might affect the fight against Sin – surely sleeping allies would be less effective than ones who were awake, but the problem would be finding a way to awaken someone who had been dreaming for so long…possibly a thousand years?
The midday sun was warm on their shoulders, with a brisk breeze pushing them swiftly towards their destination. Auron studied the small compass intently, comparing it against the map Tomi had given them. "Looks like we'll get there sometime tomorrow afternoon, maybe early evening," he told Braska. "It's hard to tell exactly where we are without a sextant, but as long as we keep bearing due South we should find them. The wind seems to be holding steady, so that isn't a problem."
"Good, I'm already getting tired of that dried meat and hard biscuit we picked up at the tavern. This is even worse than Crusader field rations." Braska made a face and took a long swallow from the keg of brackish water they'd found earlier, trying to rinse the taste of the slightly rancid jerky out of his mouth. They had found several useful items, including the compass, in the boats tiny cabin, once daylight had allowed them to check their resources; but rations hadn't been among them. He'd been surprised to find the boat as well equipped as it was, since it was only an eighteen foot catamaran, made for traveling the shallow waters of the archipelago Baaj island was a part of, not bluewater sailing. It wasn't really suitable for this type of voyage, since its keel wasn't deep enough to handle high seas, and it had no real cabin to take cover in, so they were keeping their fingers crossed that the weather would stay clear. He reached to tug on the fishing line he had hung over the side, hoping for a bite. Among the various things packed in the boat was a small charcoal brazier, which meant they could add grilled fish to their diet, if they could get something to bite that is. "I don't think the fish like the dried meat either," he commented sourly. "I wonder if anyone's found the guy we borrowed this sailboat from?"
"Probably, I can't imagine the search party missing our little gift, since we left it so neatly wrapped up!" Auron chuckled. They had surprised the ringleader of their recent ambush sleeping off a drunken binge onboard the boat they had chosen to take, and had left him for his friends to find; gagged, rolled in one of the fish nets, and suspended from the mast of one of the fishing boats.
Braska sighed, and banged the cork back into the keg, looking towards the featureless horizon as he set it down. "I think this is going to be a long trip." Late that evening, while Braska dozed at the tiller, the Al Bhed supply ship passed silently by on its way to Baaj, the bow light twinkling less than a mile off their starboard side.
It was already past sunset on their second day at sea when the small sailboat reached the vicinity of the underwater excavation site, but they had no problem finding it. The compass and the map had gotten them close enough to see the bright lights, which were visible for miles in all directions. Large spotlights blazed down from tall scaffolds, illuminating the complicated crane assemblies the Al Bhed had erected between four large barges, and making the sea glow below. Heavy cables snaked down from a huge crane on each of the barges to where two additional barges floated in the middle of the grouping. Fastened between the two smaller barges was a huge cone shaped machina, suspended between them by a sturdy sling. Numerous Al Bhed were climbing on, and partially inside of the large form, scraping seaweed and barnacles off of it.
Several high-powered watercraft raced out to meet the small sailboat, circling it until they were forced to turn upwind and drop the sail or collide with the much faster boats. "I am Braska, I have been appointed as the Ambassador to your people from the Bevelle Temple. I wish to speak to your leader Cid," Braska called, trying to look dignified in his rumpled formal robes, then added "E fuimt cbayg du Cid," in Al Bhed as soon as they were close enough to converse. The Al Bhed responded by leveling their rifles at them. One yelled "Tnub oui faybuhc!" and gestured threateningly with his rifle. "I think that means take off the weapons," Braska said. Auron nodded, and carefully removed his sword, wrapping the belt around it and tossing it onto the deck at the bow of the boat, but taking care to do it slowly. The one who had yelled the command motioned for them to put their hands up, as a man in one of the other boats floated close enough to snag the mooring line on the bow of their ship with a boat hook and began towing them towards a brightly lit barge with a large flat topped building on it. The other two moved one to each side and held the sailboat's occupants at rifle point.
"I think it might be better if they don't know how much Al Bhed we really understand," Braska said, carefully keeping his hands on his head as they both sat in the stern of the ship near the tiller, the guards watching them carefully. "If they mean us harm, we will have an advantage." Auron nodded slightly, and turned to study the barge they were being pulled towards.
Several more armed Al Bhed met the sailboat as it slid up beside the barge, coming to rest against the rusted metal side with a hard thump. They were dressed in odd one piece suits, form fitting, with numerous pouches on their belts and buckled pockets on the front and sides. Each had goggles hanging loosely on straps around their necks, the evening breeze ruffling their short blond hair. They waited impassively while Auron and Braska struggled off the rocking boat, to make the six foot climb up the slick metal ladder on the side of the barge.
"Caynlr dras!" The apparent leader ordered abruptly. Two of the others stepped forward and emptied Auron and Braska's pockets onto the deck, confiscating their boot knives and the diplomatic pouch Braska had tucked into his formal robe. "Dyga dras du dra rumtehk lamm," the leader commanded, once he was satisfied they were unarmed.
"E fuimt cbayg du Cid," Braska repeated slowly, as if reciting a memorized phrase, but the guards shoved him forward instead of answering, and marched them into the building. They were pushed into a windowless holding cell, the room empty except for several flat pads on the floor, and locked inside without comment. During their second hour of confinement, the door opened once more as their captors brought food and drink - one standing out of reach with a rifle in hand, the other carefully setting a tray with two plates, a couple plastic cups and a carafe of water onto the floor of the cell. The guard who brought the food motioned them back as he entered, but wouldn't make eye contact.
"E fuimt cbayg du Cid." Braska repeated his wish to speak to Cid in Al Bhed, carefully slurring his words so it seemed he spoke the language very badly. The guard shut the door and locked it without comment.
Auron looked at Braska, and whispered, "We've sure stepped in it haven't we? What do you think our next move should be?"
Without missing a beat, Braska replied reasonably, "Eat." He picked up one of the plates, located a fork and started eating, indicating to Auron that the food was pretty good. "We'll wait and see what they do, it's their move now."
The door reopened several hours later, and three guards armed with rifles waited for them to rise, then motioned them down the hallway and through a door that turned out to contain a well equipped shower and bathroom facility. The guards allowed them privacy to clean up before they were ushered briskly back into the cell. The tray was gone when they returned, but another carafe of fresh water had been left in its place.
They spent the night silently, sitting on the pads and leaning against the cell wall, trying to sleep despite the discomfort. In the morning, about an hour after dawn as they estimated the passage of time, an Al Bhed woman opened the door. She was shapely, despite being dressed as the others had been, with the addition of a form fitting hood concealing her hair, and goggles over her eyes.
She looked at Auron first, the broad shoulders and swordsman's muscles revealed by his sleeveless black shirt almost making him look stocky, until he stood and showed his full six foot height. The woman turned her gaze away however, when she encountered his wary expression, and then she hesitated as Braska stood gracefully, his eyes locked on her. She could not help noticing his deep blue eyes set above high cheek bones, fine nose, and strong chin set off by dark hair and golden skin. At five-foot eleven, he was an impressive figure. Clad in dark green leggings tucked into soft boots and a simple sleeveless shirt like Auron's, his shoulders were nearly as wide as his guardian's, if not quite as muscular, with a firm abdomen tapering to slender hips and long muscular legs.
They both bowed politely to her. "I am Braska from the Yevon Temple in Bevelle. I have been appointed the duties of ambassador to your people. I formally request an audience with your leader, Cid," Braska stated, then repeated in his deliberately poor Al Bhed, "E fuimt cbayg du Cid," as he paused to pick up his outer robes.
The woman blinked as if drawn back to reality, then briskly ordered, "Follow me," in the common language of Spira. Her voice was a soft alto with the lilt of her native Al Bhed barely noticeable; something about it struck a chord in Braska and he gave her his full attention as she led them silently to the door of the washroom.
"You may freshen up in there," the woman said softly to the men, gesturing for them to enter. "Supplies have been left for your use; someone will direct you when you are ready."
A different Al Bhed was waiting for them when they exited the washroom a little later, greatly refreshed; showered, shaved, wearing clean shirts and pants of a cut similar to their own, and having steamed the wrinkles out of Braska's robe. The young Al Bhed bowed slightly and beckoned for them to follow him down the hall, green eyes glancing back at them with open curiosity. Stepping forward, he opened another door as they reached the end, revealing a large room apparently used for meetings, because a number of maps and diagrams were pinned to the walls, and note pads and pens were stacked beside a caff urn and a stack of cups on a small table against one wall. A large window in the opposite wall provided a view of the salvage operation, now revealed by the morning sunlight. Three Al Bhed men and two women waited in chairs around a long table in the center of the room, Braska's diplomatic pouch, Auron's sword and both boot knives lying between them, along with a scattering of empty cups. Five pairs of green Al Bhed eyes swiveled to look at them as they stepped into the room.
A square faced man of about thirty five years rose from his seat at the end of the table as they entered, the bright overhead light making him squint slightly, and reflecting off his balding head - turning the remaining fuzz of blond hairs golden. A tattoo, possibly of a flame, was on the right side of his head, near the temple. He let them stand in silence as he looked them both over, arms crossed on his chest, a slightly forbidding expression on his face. He noted Auron's balanced stance and watchful eyes, and Braska's calm dignity and apparently relaxed posture; an impressive sight in his formal priest's robes, despite his youth. Prisoners these young men might currently be, but hardly helpless, he thought, noting their quiet confidence. It was more as if they were allowing the Al Bhed to hold them, and had no doubt of their ability to escape if needed.
"Not quite what I expected, Aja" one of the men said quietly in Al Bhed to the man seated beside him.
"They both seem awfully young for this responsibility," Aja replied, nodding slightly in agreement as his gaze went from one 'guest' to the other. He too noticed the quiet confidence with which they bore the examination, and he had also seen Auron take one keen glance around the room as they entered, before he positioned himself in a way that would allow him free movement if it became necessary to fight, standing protectively just slightly in front of Braska. Braska, on his part, seemed equally aware of his surroundings, and was watching the group intently, his weight balanced - ready to move quickly if necessary. Aja revised his opinion as to their competence upwards, recognizing experienced warriors when he saw them, despite their youth.
"Anyone would be better than that fool priest at Baaj," the grey haired woman commented quietly, sipping caff from a cup. "And they don't look like the troublemakers he described in his letter." She set her cup down on the table with a click.
"Well, you know I've never trusted that fat priest, Bessa," the younger woman murmured to her elder. "But the taller one looks to be good in a fight, and I'm not sure the other would be helpless either, even if he is a priest."
"Rin spoke well of them - I say hear them out," the older woman voted, looking at the others to gauge their opinions.
The man at the head of the table looked around at each of his advisors, collecting their nods of agreement before he spoke. "Welcome to our little operation, gentlemen. I am Cid. These are my advisors, Aja, Calix, Tosca, and Bessa," he said, introducing the others at the table. They each nodded politely as they were introduced.
Braska bowed formally to Cid, and then nodded deeply to each of the others. "I am Lord Braska, son of Lord Yureth of Bevelle. My Guardian, Sir Auron," he turned to indicate Auron, who bowed politely to the group. "I have been appointed by Yevon's Temple in Bevelle to be Ambassador and liaison between our people." Braska motioned to the diplomatic pouch, open on the table. "As you have no doubt seen, I have been authorized to negotiate with you regarding the joint use of any items you may recover from this salvage operation, and any subsequent items you may find of a similar nature. Maester Mica, as head of the Maester's Council, has impressed upon me the importance of establishing a cooperative relationship between the Al Bhed people and the Church of Yevon; that we may work together towards the ultimate goal of all the people of Spira - the elimination of Sin." Prepared speech finished, he bowed, than added in a voice not quite so assured. "I apologize for our untimely arrival last night, but..." He hesitated, unwilling to admit they'd left Baaj on a stolen boat, only minutes in front of an assassination squad sent by High Priest Balamus. "The political situation on Baaj warranted our immediate departure," he finally finished.
Cid looked at him for a long moment, trying not to smile at that fine bit of verbal dancing. He suspected there was a lot more to the story, having had the report of their arrival, without any luggage or proper navigational gear, in an ill equipped boat identified as belonging to the fishing village on Baaj. "I'm sure there is much for us to discuss," he stated finally, raising his eyebrows. "But let us eat first, since I have just arrived here from Bikanel myself, and have not yet had breakfast. Talking can be done later," Cid insisted, deciding that now wasn't the time to bring this up, not if he wanted an honest answer at least. He was sure Rin would be able to clear up any questions concerning what had sent the young priest and his guardian fleeing the island in such a hurry, when he returned in a day or so from Baaj.
The door opened behind them, and they turned to see several teenaged Al Bhed wheeling in carts with plates and silverware, glasses filled with a golden juice, and platters with baked fish, fresh scrambled eggs, a large basket of breads, as well as several dishes Auron and Braska could not identify.
"As you are ready…" Cid gestured, inviting them to sit with a wave of one sun darkened hand as the young helpers began serving the food.
Braska and Auron turned to the others at the table, and as Rin had taught them, bowed to the group to acknowledge the invitation, before pulling out their chairs. As they sat, a beautiful young woman entered the room, and out of habit they rose once more from their seats. She looked about twenty-four, slender built but gently curved, long blond hair curling around her shoulders; her green eyes had an inner glow that lit up her delicate oval face as she smiled in response to their gallantry.
"My sister, Leyona," Cid said, frowning slightly with exasperation at the young woman. She had not been invited to the meeting, but he wasn't surprised she had come anyway, given her interest in their guests from Bevelle.
"Please, be seated," Leyona insisted politely, moving to take a seat across from where Auron and Braska sat. It was then that Braska realized it was the same sweet alto voice that had caught his attention earlier. The young woman who had just entered the room had fulfilled all the expectations the voice had raised, he thought admiringly. They sat and began to eat, but Braska found that his eyes kept meeting hers as they stole glances across the table.