Against his will, Tidus felt his eyes snap open to take in sloped rock ceiling. He slowly manoeuvred himself upright. He had to be careful to move within the confines of the body spell the assassin had placed over him, or else suffer the excruciating punishment.
The young man took in his surroundings, his mind still foggy as his eyes adjusted. It felt like he had only been asleep for three seconds, and the exhaustion that had been hounding him for hours had not abated in the least. They were in a shallow crevice off to the side of the path leading up the mountain, a primitive shelter against the cold wind. It could not be more than seven or eight o'clock in the evening, yet the sky was nearly black with storm clouds.
The two of them, master and reluctant slave, had been travelling at a fast pace for the whole day and only stopped twice. The first time was to allow the assassin time to sleep, and Tidus kept a forced watch. The second time was so that Tidus could rest, however briefly his newfound master allowed him to.
He shivered and pulled the fur-lined cloak even tighter around his shoulders, glancing across the crevice. His captor was crouched against the wall of stone, pale eyes watching him silently.
Kyrida nickered softly at him, and Tidus cautiously inched his way towards her. His laboured movements made the assassin laugh softly.
"It is torturous, is it not?" he questioned maliciously. His voice echoed in a quiet hiss around the rock alcove. "To restrain such a natural thing like walking. Quite like having heavy chains wrapped around you."
"I wouldn't know," Tidus replied coldly, stroking the mare's neck. "I have never been a slave."
The assassin shifted almost invisibly, instantly picking up on the implication. "Are you suggesting that I was?"
"Why else would you treat this so personally? You are exacting vengeance on your wrongdoers through me."
"Such a clever boy. How well you read me."
Tidus shrugged. "That, and the fact that you shared a dream with me when we stopped a while back. I saw things in your mind."
He was on his back so fast he barely registered what was happening before the agonizing charge surged through him, paralysing him. The assassin stood over him and leaned down so close that Tidus could nearly see himself reflected in those eyes.
"You lie," he snarled, his voice more menacing than it had ever been. "That is not possible."
"It-it's true!" Tidus gasped, feeling his limbs seize up. "It must be a . . . a side effect of the spell!"
The blade emerged from the sheath and the tip positioned itself at his throat. "Prove it."
"You, you're name . . . is Tremath," he stammered, starting to feel the spell's hold slip slightly. "You were friends with a girl named Shula. They . . . these men dressed in orange, they . . . forced you to work with other children. They beat you, starved you, and . . . they took Shula away."
His captor gazed down at him incredulously before slowly sliding off him. Tidus nearly sobbed with relief as the pain disappeared. He curled up on his side and hugged himself, trembling. Tremath walked in small circles for a moment, his black cloak billowing out behind him. At last he stopped and sat down stiffly across the crevice, sheathing his dagger.
"They killed her," he said in a barely audible voice. "They killed her because I convinced her to run with me. I dragged her from that place, and they punished her. I kept running. I never stopped."
The delicate quiet was deafening in the wake of Tremath's confession. Tidus knew instinctively that he was not to reply. He could not help it, but a small fragment of pity embedded itself in his heart. He knew it was wrong, and that Tremath deserved no mercy for the deeds he had done, but the soft part of Tidus' soul knew that the assassin had endured horrors no one should ever have to endure.
So he said nothing, and the two men sat in tense silence for a long time.
Kyrida broke the calm by stamping her hoof and swishing her silver tail, indicating a strong desire to leave the cramped shelter. Tremath stood upright so quickly that the horse gave a start.
"Time to go, Slave," he ordered in a monotone voice. Tidus remained seated.
"My name is Tidus," he said impulsively, though without force or malice. The instant those words left his mouth, however, he froze and with a sinking heart awaited the punishment that would no doubt follow. He closed his eyes and braced himself.
Nothing happened.
Cautiously he peered up, only to find that Tremath had not moved. He was not even looking at him. His cold blue eyes were staring into nothingness, and for a moment Tidus wondered if his slip up had even been noticed.
"Time to go," the assassin repeated, his tone unchanging. Tidus stared at him warily, but not another word was spoken.
0000000000000000000000000000
Hardly able to see past the haze of exhaustion, Tidus ploughed along behind Kyrida's dim shape. His stiff fingers grasped her silver tail unyieldingly, knowing that should he let go he would fall to his knees and earn a sharp physical reprimand. He had no energy to suffer through another punishment.
His body was numb to the core, hardly registering the hard sharp rocks thudding against his feet as he staggered over them. Frigid winds battered him and howled in his ears, frequently pushing his cloak hood down around his shoulders.
They had been heading uphill on a tiny hidden trail for over an hour since leaving their makeshift camp, and aside from startling a small herd of mountain goats they had not spotted other signs of life. Once, for a moment, Tidus was convinced that he heard the shriek of a falcon and wondered frantically if the Yevonite army had already caught up with them, but then he realized that it was probably just the wind playing tricks on his senses. When he remembered himself and tried to lapse back into warrior mode, Tidus carefully looked around to scan the range for any hint of Ronso inhabitation. But he knew it was a fruitless endeavour. The Ronso were masters of disguise and concealed any trace of their presence with unfailing precision.
He truly was alone.
Tremath had not said a word since they left the crevice, and for that Tidus was thankful. The relationship between the two men had changed bizarrely, and now Tidus was unsure upon which ground he tread. He was careful not to speak, and even more careful to move within the limits of the spell. It had not, however, escaped his notice that the assassin's grip on the spell had loosened even more. His mind was too preoccupied with other matters to maintain a firm hold, and the fact that he was not a natural mage meant that his control was already fleeting.
Tidus, fatigued, starving, cold, blind, and emotionally spent in every way, could only concentrate on the fact that with a little patience, he might be able to break the spell on himself and be free of captivity. He could take Kyrida and ride ahead to rejoin the others, and be reunited with Yuna.
Yuna.
He closed his eyes and drowned in thoughts of her, bathing his mind in her glow. More than anything, he wanted just to touch her, even for a moment. Should he die tonight, or tomorrow, or days down the road, all he needed to die in peace was to tell her that she was everything to him. He wanted to hold her in his arms. He wanted to tell her he was sorry for all he had put her through. Even simply seeing her again would make death easier to face.
Breathing deeply, a slow shuddering breath, he made a solemn vow.
'I will escape. I will find a way to see her again, even if it is with my last ounce of strength.'
Tremath tensed as if something had startled or affronted him and turned around in the saddle to glance at the stumbling young man. Tidus did not notice him.
000000000000000000000000000000
He felt it before he saw it; a slow, gradual wave of energy approaching, like a tidal wave only a heartbeat from breaking on the shore. Lifting his head up and pulling his thoughts from dark musings, Tidus had a split second to react as Tremath's body came hurtling at him from the saddle.
Not bothering to wonder if his body could move to safety within the confines of the spell, he instinctively threw himself to the side as the assassin landed with a muted grunt on the trail. Startled, Kyrida reared up and danced sideways off the path, her nostrils flaring.
It was then that Tidus realized that the spell was gone.
Before Tremath could right himself and get his bearings, before Tidus could act with his regained independence, a figure emerged from the shadows of the dying light. A woman's figure, Tidus could see, but no less intimidating than that of a giant. The hair on the back of his neck and his arms stood on end, and he felt the air around him shift with power. Tremath ripped his dagger out from its sheath and lunged at the woman just as she raised her hand. He flew sharply to the side, soaring through the air as if shoved by a giant invisible hand. Open-mouthed, still unable to react in spite of his body's freedom, Tidus watched the assassin land spread-eagled against the wall of stone. He did not slide down, though he appeared to struggle. The mage woman stepped forward, her hand still upright, and glided regally towards the pinned man.
"Lulu," Tidus choked, otherwise incapable of forming words. She did not acknowledge him, her attention focused solely on the assassin.
"You have sinned against many people," Lulu said in a chillingly cold voice, crimson eyes unwavering on his trapped body. "You have committed crimes that no god or spirit could forgive, all in the name of greed. For this, I send you with ill tidings to the next life, where only the worthy may judge your miserable soul."
"Lulu, wait," Tidus cried out, a stab of conscience piercing him. "You can't . . . you can't kill him. Not like this."
'What the hell are you doing?'
He wished he could answer himself, and the questioning look on Lulu's face. He wished he could at the very least explain why it was so important to give the assassin a fair chance.
But Lulu, unlike anyone else Tidus could think of, was not a woman who demanded answers from those she trusted. A shrewd, calculated look flickered in her eyes as if she understood his conflicting decision.
"As you wish. How would you like it done?" There was a note of annoyance in her voice, a sharp demand that made him forget himself momentarily.
"I . . . I don't know. I just don't think we should kill him when he is helpless and, at the moment, innocent of charges against us. Like you said, Lulu, only the gods and spirits can judge him when his time comes. But . . . we shouldn't be the ones to decide when that happens. Am I making any sense?" he asked, frowning at himself and wishing he possessed the brains to tell himself when to shut up.
"Yes," the mage replied smoothly. "Unfortunately you and Auron have the same heart. You both have a foolish compassion for murderous criminals that can spring up at the most inopportune times."
He couldn't quite tell, but for a moment she almost sounded like she spoke with fondness rather than irritation.
Lulu turned to the motionless assassin, who watched this exchange with wide yet unreadable eyes. Her expression hardened once more.
"Luckily for you," she said menacingly, "some people in this world have a streak of decency. And though you are the last human I can think of who is deserving of mercy, I will not kill you. But I will hurt you. Severely."
And with that, she hurled him across the path and made him smash into the opposite rock wall, instantly knocking him out cold and dually breaking a few bones.
"Pathetic," Lulu said, staring contemptuously at Tremath's prostrate form. "I had been expecting more of a resistance."
Tidus, realizing that it was all over, dashed clumsily towards her and grabbed her hands in his.
"I am so glad to see you," he said fervently. "I was beginning to despair. Yuna, is she . . . well, how is she?"
If Lulu was surprised at his hold on her, she did not reveal it. Her eyes held his firmly. "I would not know. She was unconscious when I left the Ronso village to come find you."
Tidus deflated and slowly released her, his face falling. "I see," he said quietly, dropping his gaze. "I-I had hoped . . ."
"That she would come running after you? That she would forget the way you left her?" his companion supplied flatly. He winced as if he had been physically struck.
"Lulu, please, you know that I-"
"-Was under a mind spell, and a body binding spell, yes, I do know," she cut in, waving her hand dismissively. "But when you left, most of the responsibility lands on you. The assassin had only minimal hold on you at the time. The seed of doubt had been planted, and you watered it and nursed it to life with your own misgivings and secret fears. You will have to come to terms with that, and pray that Yuna forgives you for harbouring so much uncertainty. Of all people, she needs your strength the most. If you forget that, we could all suffer for it. Do you understand?"
Tidus swallowed thickly and nodded, still looking at the ground. Lulu was remarkably hard to look at when one was struggling with guilt. "Lulu . . . do you think she will forgive me?"
"Yes," the priestess replied calmly. "Whether instantaneously or with time, I cannot say. But I know Yuna's type. She loves you too much to hold you away in anger."
For some strange, obscure reason that Tidus would spend many hours puzzling over later, it was those very words that got to him and broke down the last pillar of his reserve.
He released a short, strangled sob and sank to his knees, feeling hot unfamiliar tears burn his eyes. His head fell forward and came to rest against the front of Lulu's dress. His shoulders shook violently and he threw his arms around her legs, unaware of the way she stiffened in surprise.
Slowly, very slowly, her pale hand came down to rest in his hair, and Tidus wept for the first time in years as brokenly and tiredly as any defeated child. And he was so tired.
Lulu did not say anything, and Tidus was grateful for her insight. He could not bear to hear anything else for the moment. It would have been too much, and all he wanted to do was empty himself of tears.
0000000000000000000000000000000
"Auron! Sir Auron!"
Yuna caught him just as he was walking towards the dining cave. The older man stopped short as her hand latched onto his arm, whirling him around.
"Yuna, what-"
"The Yevonites! They're here!" she gasped, cutting him off. Wakka arrived behind her, pale beneath his tropical Besaidian tan. A flicker of surprise and alarm passed through Auron, though his posture and expression remained unchanged. His thoughts immediately flew to Lulu and Tidus, who were somewhere between the army and the village.
"How much time do we have?" he asked as Kimahri came to stand by him.
"Not long," Wakka answered, gesturing up. The guardian glanced towards the sky and saw the distinct outspread wings of a Yevonite falcon wheeling overhead.
"Kimahri, how fast can your tribe cover its tracks?" he asked the Ronso chieftain. Kimahri's golden eyes watched the bird of prey with a fierce intensity.
"Less than one hour," he replied gruffly, his tail sweeping back and forward thoughtfully. "If starting now."
"Warn your people," Auron instructed, speaking to the chief as though they were equal in status. "The Yevonite Army will show the Ronso no mercy if they are caught in the crossfire."
"There are secret caves where Ronso go in time of danger," Kimahri said calmly. "Never used before. Tonight will be first time."
Auron nodded and briefly patted his shoulder. "Let us hope the caves won't fail you."
Kimahri sprinted forward and went off to tell his clansmen of the danger. His hackles were beginning to stand up, and Yuna thought he was gripping his lancet handle rather tightly.
"Wakka, find Rikku and tell her to be ready to leave at once. Yuna, go back to our cave and see if we are forgetting anything. I'm going to help Kimahri spread the word and clean up the village. We will meet at the northwest corner of the town," Auron said hurriedly, beginning to head off after Kimahri. Wakka nodded and quickly disappeared from sight to locate Rikku.
"But, Sir Auron . . . what about . . ."
"Yuna, Lulu and Tidus can take care of themselves. They know where to go. I promise you that they will meet with us soon," the older guardian said with forced patience, trying not to stare too deeply into the worried depths of her eyes.
He was afraid of seeing his own fears reflected in them.