Jak and Daxter: Legacy

Chapter 4: Three Broken Rules

The first two days had been hell. Jak, who'd opted to take the less-traveled road between Sandover and Jadecrest, shuddered as he walked through the morning mist. It hung steady in the air, dampening his clothes, the endless trees above weeping dew onto his hooded head. Great green eco crystals poked up from the earth, their light forming lime patches in the silver fog.

As Samos had instructed, Jak had rested away from the path each eve, though it was so overgrown he always feared he might not find his way back. Both nights, a storm had hammered his poorly-pitched lean-to while wolfadgers howled in the distance. As he'd laid there, his dark mark prickling with fear, rain washing blood from his blistered feet, he'd wondered if Samos and Keira were still close enough to hear them, too.

He continued up the path, remembering how the caravans who'd traveled to Sandover seemed so well-rested and calm. How could they could stand it? Pure exposure, he surmised, something he – the sheltered sage's apprentice who resembled a lost child with the way he stumbled over stones and tottered over rain-carved ruts in the dirt – sorely lacked. Plus, they had numbers, a warm wagon, and the reassurance of familiar voices. He had himself, aching legs, and the grim silence of one who journeys because he must, not because he can.

Little stripes of umber emerged between the trees ahead. As he neared, the trees grew sparser, and mouthwatering smoke and buildings thicker. He drew out his map. It wasn't Jadecrest; perhaps one of the nameless dots of civilization sprinkled across the parchment nearby? Either way, he'd never been there nor heard of it. When he saw that the people hurrying between huts were dressed in browns, tans, and whites instead of greens, he knew why.

Samos had taught him the customs of the other tribes, but the tribeless – who they called the Unwise for their lack of ruling sages – were a great mystery to him. There were many such villages across Nadoa, but they tended to keep to themselves. The eco tribals weren't allowed to intermingle with such "heathens". The Unwise didn't care. Colors stayed with colors. Non-colors stayed with non-colors. An unspoken, peaceful pact that had endured for centuries, though Jak knew not all the tribes were so kind to their neighbors as his was.

Jak hid behind a thick, gnarled trunk, raised his face to the gray sky, and stole a deep breath from the air.

They're just people. Remember the rules you made, that's all, Jak reassured himself. One, hide the wound. Two, don't answer questions. Three, no eco. Just buy some food, walk on through, and-

"Don't budge."

There was a cold, sharp scrape at his temple. He glanced to the right. A brown eye glared at him from the other end of an arrow's shaft, the fingers of its owner gripping a bowstring just beneath it.

"No trouble," Jak blurted, raising his arms. "I don't want any trouble-"

"That's what the bandits said before they murdered half our village."

"Bandits?"

"Your friends, I'm sure."

Jak could either take her on, run, or try to appease her and hope she'd believe his innocence. He remembered the way he'd used his new sword the day before. Or, rather, how he'd flailed it around and pretended he knew what he was doing as he hacked away at bushes alongside the road. There also was the dagger on his belt, though he didn't know if he could bring himself to actually stab her. At the very least, he could heal her afterwards to make up for it, right?

Precursors, I'm shit at this, he thought.

Worse yet, the dark mark on his chest started to sear. He took a few deep breaths. Kill the fear or kill the girl. Jak pleaded – begged it – to die down. He just wanted to buy some yakow jerky today, not murder someone.

"Look, I have two weapons on me. There's a dagger under my belt and a retractable sword in my pocket. Take them, I don't care."

"And what will happen in the split second I lower my arrow to grab them?"

"I'll… probably wet my pants in relief?"

She let out a chuckle and quickly dropped the arrow. Jak was about to let out his held breath and bow his head in greeting and thanks, but she took her arrow and pressed its sharp point against his throat. He swallowed hard as the dark eco mark started to hurt again. She wrapped her bow around herself and took both weapons from his belt and pocket with her free hand, then pulled the arrow back.

As she inspected them, Jak – his back still against the tree and arms still up – inspected her in return. Like most Unwise, she had short hair of a muted color, dust brown in the overcast light. She wore simple pants and a leather and animal fur smock with a plain shirt beneath and bits of Precursor metal as armor atop it, though there was one thing she had that both the Unwise and tribals shared: shoeless feet, bare save for some meager leather wrappings.

She pressed the sword handle's button and grinned as the blade clicked out into full length, "Nice. Where'd you get it?"

"Friend made it," Jak answered. "Modified brassbeetle arm."

"Brassbeetle? Never thought those relics'd be good for anything but cutting weeds. Kinda ugly for mechs, too. Here."

Jak caught the sword after she'd retracted and tossed it. She handed him his dagger as well, then started to walk back to the town. He stared after her, mouth ajar. Just a minute ago, she was pressing an arrow's tip to his throat. Now she was just letting him go?

"You're quick to trust. Not that I'm complaining."

"And you're clearly no threat," she said over her shoulder. "You're free to pass. Just try not to gawk at all the wounded bodies, okay?"

Jak furrowed his brows, then pocketed his sword and jogged to catch up to her. They walked side-by-side, though she looked far less invested in the coming conversation than he was, her eyes and stride straight forward, Jak's gait sideways and stumbling.

"So how can you tell I'm no threat? Far as you know, I'm a cold-blooded killer."

"You?" the young woman failed to stifle a laugh. "Your feet are bleeding, you're honest to a fault, and you've got the wide-eyed look of someone who'd cry the moment blades were drawn."

Jak opened his mouth to argue.

"No, I can tell. You're one of the tribals, aren't you? Too busy staying safe on the coasts and getting your booboos healed by a sage to have ever wandered far from home. And no one gets blisters that bad on their feet unless all they've ever walked on is soft grass and sand."

"Booboos? I'll have you know that we – they – heal worse things than booboos."

"Like what? What's the worst thing you've ever seen?"

Jak pursed his lips in thought. "Well, one guy cut himself with a sickle-"

The woman burst into laughter again. Jak's cheeks burned, though he was glad that his embarrassment seemed to be dampening both his fear and the dark mark's burning. She still strode straight, but now turned her head to Jak when she spoke.

"You know, you don't look like one, though. Your hair doesn't look like greasy seaweed, I mean. And your eyes… sure you're not one of the blue peoples?"

"I'm a little bit of everything, I guess," Jak answered quietly, remembering his second rule for himself, though he felt a little stung at the "seaweed" comment despite the fact that he – with his strange reddish-blond… spikes, he supposed he'd call them, now that he'd hacked them short – had never had hair like that.

"That the reason you left?"

"What?"

"I've heard your people can be a little… exclusive."

Jak smiled bitterly. "That's one way to put it."

"Well, here in Kunino, we don't care. Spend money, don't pillage, you're good. And like I said, don't mind the wounded. We're still recuperating from the attack."

"Do you…?" he paused, reminding himself of his third rule, but found his mouth uttering the question anyways, as if by instinct. "Do you need any help?"

"I'd ask you to run back and get your tribe to spare a sage, but we've already tried ourselves. Both Samos and Chios ignored our messengers the last time this happened."

"They did?"

The young woman narrowed her eyes. "We weren't surprised, but still."

Before Jak could ask anything more – even her name – she walked off towards a similarly dressed man outside one of the larger buildings, leaving Jak alone by the simple wooden gate. He reached for his own bow when Jak took a few steps forward. She muttered something to the suspicious guard and gestured towards Jak. The guard's hand fell back to his side, although clenched in a fist.

Kunino didn't look much different than Sandover. All the huts shared the steeply sloped gables and open windows. Even the little bridge over the stream reminded Jak of home. A long, straight path – churned to mud by rain and feet – stretched through Kunino's center to a great pine. Arrows glinted where they were stuck in the trunk.

He walked down the middle, blinking less the more he ventured. The woman hadn't lied. More arrow shafts rose from mud, from windowsills, and there was even one in the bucket over the well. Blood had stained staircases and walkways; little hints of red peeking from the gloom. He wondered just how many had been wounded when he heard the moaning. It came from a building to his left. He glanced back and found that the woman and her antsy friend were looking the other way, pointing towards the forest, perhaps recalling where the bandits had descended from. Jak hurried up to a window and peeked inside while their backs were turned.

He froze. Body after body lined the floor. He counted twenty, maybe more, with some even piled up in bandaged stacks at the back. Likely the dead. The few healthy people attending them raced between each, their fingers trembling, stares shell-shocked, and caught up in frenzied, desperate attempts to mix what looked like herbal salves.

And the red. There was so much red. Spills of it on the wooden floor. Little grins of it peeking from between bandages. Gloves of it on the helpers' hands as they tried in vain to stop oozing wounds.

He'd heard tales of bandits from travelers, but he'd never seen just how much devastation they could wreak. Jak tightened his grip on the pack straps that crossed his chest. The woman had said this had happened before and they'd asked the nearby sages for aid, but Samos had never told Jak about it. Why? Why couldn't he have sent Jak along to help? His gut clenched with guilt. If Samos had only told him…

In fact, now that Jak thought about it, Samos never let him go anywhere beyond Sandover without him. Even when they traveled to Jadecrest on occasion to meet with their sage, Samos never let him go to explore the town by himself, no matter how much he'd begged. He'd let Keira travel alone before, though.

Now that Jak had finally tasted freedom, he only now realized he'd never had it. But why? And if Samos was afraid of letting Jak free, why had he so easily told him to leave after the incident in the ruins?

Even worse, Samos had ignored people in need. The thought made Jak's blood boil. He supposed it would have looked bad to the other villagers, however. These people were the Unwise, and his tribe would have rioted had Samos answered their pleas. 'Unholy', they would have called it. 'Just asking for the gods' anger', others would claim.

A lot of things Samos did was because of how it appeared to the others, Jak thought, biting his lip. Even tossing me out and telling them I'd died. Did he… did he even love me? Or was keeping me a calculated move, too? He didn't even wake early to say goodbye when I left.

"Grim sight, huh?"

Jak flinched back into the present. The short-haired woman was next to him, staring.

"Oh, sorry! I just-"

"Wanted to see just how bad it is? Well, there's your answer."

"Did… did the sages really ignore your messages?"

She crossed her arms and sighed, likely not wanting to say anything more negative about his people.

"They did, didn't they?" Jak looked to the ground. "Sorry."

"What are you sorry for? Hey, I get it. We don't pay homage to them, we don't live under their rules, and their people don't like us."

"Still. We were taught that green eco was given to us by the Precursors because we were the kindest. That they knew we'd share it with their other creations. But I suppose…"

"You kinda hog it?"

"Yeah, that."

It was silent between them for a long while. Jak remembered the day Samos had taught him that.

"All eco thrives on certain things, Jak. Red, courage. Blue, excitement. And yellow, on happiness."

"What about green? Green's gotta be luck, isn't it? O-or maybe life? 'Cause you heal stuff with it, you know?"

The sage had sighed and handed him a seed. Jak thought about how cliché it seemed in retrospect, but the point Samos had made with it made perfect, humbling sense to him as a six-year-old.

"Do you know what this is, Jak?"

"It's a seed, duh!"

"And what do you do with seeds?"

"I dunno… sometimes I throw some at the seagulls. They love them a lot! I think they taste kinda gross, but I'm glad someone likes-"

"What do people usually do with seeds, Jak?"

"Uh… plant 'em?"

"Indeed. And that one in particular is from an elder cedar. Elder cedars take over a thousand years to grow to full height."

"Wow! So, they're like as old as you?"

When Samos had said nothing, only raised his brow, Jak remembered how his younger self had drooped his head and mumbled an apology.

"But why do people plant them, then? It probably won't even sprout from the ground while they're alive! So what's the point?"

"Tell me this, Jak: why are you always giving people gifts?"

"Me!? Well… the seagulls really like seeds because they think they're tasty. I get you flowers because I know they make our house look nice. Aaaaannnd Keira likes hugs and little pieces of machines I've found in the fields. Because she's a girl, I guess? I don't know."

"Precisely! That, my boy, is the point I'm trying to make: green eco thrives on generosity. The willingness to give without expecting return. Or, in this case, the ability to plant a tree under whose shade only the distantly born may bask in."

"Hey, uh…?"

"Sepsu."

What Jak was about to say went against everything his culture had drilled into his head about interacting with the tribeless and against his second rule he'd set for himself. He was also going against Samos' warnings, but the new idea brewing in his head made him smile. It gave him a jolt of giddiness as he realized something:

He can't control me anymore. I'm free. He cast me out, just like the others always wanted him to, and I'm free.

Jak tore off his hood and said, "Sepsu, can you keep a secret?"

Twenty-two patients. Jak was ready to collapse when the twenty-third was brought in. Sepsu had set him up in a small room in the back of the temporary infirmary, guarding the doorway as he worked. Every time he healed someone, Sepsu glanced back over her shoulder, entranced by the green glow.

One of the attendants stood by his side, a kindly older woman, producing whatever herb he asked for. They were sorely lacking some important ones, but Jak tried to make do with what they had. He even took some of the ointment and herbs Samos had given him from his pack, using them whenever necessary.

Green eco's all about generosity, right? Jak thought, wiping sweat from his forehead with his non-bloody arm. I'm just doing what you told me to, Samos.

"That should be the last one, Jak," Sepsu said as the other attendants gently slid a middle-aged woman onto the red-stained table before him. "Finish this one and you're good."

"Will do," he removed the bandages of the patient before him, saw a deep puncture wound in her shoulder, and turned to the older woman next to him. "Bloodbane, please."

Jak only had a bit of energy left. He bit his lip in concentration, took in a deep breath, and let the last of his green eco leak from his palm. Thankfully, it was enough to seal most of the wound. The rest he cleaned up with some water, took some of the bloodbane paste the older woman had set next to him, spread it over the wound, and re-bandaged it.

"That should do it," Jak said, then slumped to the floor as the others took her back out to the main room again.

Footsteps neared. Jak still hung his head in exhaustion, only turning it when Sepsu sat down next to him and pulled something from her pocket. His mouth watered at its smell.

"Here," she offered it to him. "Tuberbread. It's good."

He wolfed it down in seconds. Sepsu laughed, then gave him another hunk and offered him her water pouch, which he also greedily accepted. Through the legs of the table before them, Jak could see the building's main windows beyond the doorway. The sun had come out and it looked like the village was alive again, distant voices filling the air, people strolling about.

"We won't tell anyone, you know?"

"No, I know. I trust you."

"Can I ask you a question, though?"

"Shoot."

"Your people usually guard your sages like treasure hoards. So what would possess them to let one go?"

Jak closed his eyes. Did he really want to answer that question? He supposed he'd already broken one of his rules today. Why not two?

"They think I'm dead."

Sepsu's brown eyes widened. "Dead?"

"Yep."

"But why?"

"I…" he scratched the back of his sweaty head. "I made a mistake. One so bad that I had to run, otherwise they'd have thrown me out."

Sepsu stiffened. "You… you didn't hurt anyone, did you?"

"Hurt someone? Precursors, no. No, I just went sticking my idiot head into some ruins."

"Oh," she settled her back against the wall again. "Yeah, I've heard your people are a little touchy about that."

"Just a bit. How about you? What's your life story?"

Sepsu chuckled, then brushed her hair behind an ear. "Well… my father's the local lord. Kind of like one of your sages, but without the neat magic part. He and what few warriors we had were called up north by one of our sister villages; a little place called Nagu. They've been having issues up there with some creatures."

"Creatures?"

"Have you ever heard of Metal Heads before?"

Jak shook his head.

"They typically stick to the Wastelands in the far north, but recently they've been starting to hit some of the towns, tribal or not. I mean, they're everywhere beyond the mountains, but even then you only find them in great nests deep underground."

"What do they look like?"

"From the letters my father got from my uncle in Nagu, they're terrifying. Dark blue, slimy skin, skin plates made of steel, and these creepy yellow eyes that glow in the shadows. You think wolfadgers are bad? Metal Heads would use them as toothpicks. And they're smart, too. I got stuck behind to look after the town. Problem is, the bandits found out we're defenseless for the time being. Assholes."

"Well," Jak nodded, not sure how to process the fact that he was headed straight in the direction of said monsters. "Let's hope they go back to wherever they came from. Both the Metal Heads and bandits, I mean."

"Is that where you're headed? North?"

"Yeah, it is."

They sat in grim silence once more. Finally, after a long while, Sepsu stood.

"Stop by the merchant's just across from the well. I'll have Mata there prepare a payment for you."

Jak shook his head and started to get up. "You don't need-"

"You're traveling, are you not? You can't journey on an empty stomach. We repay kindness here."

"No, really. Sepsu, I don't need-"

Jak stopped just before his hand reached her shoulder. She had frozen in place. He tried to step in front of her; to look into her face and ask her what was wrong, but she shoved him away.

"Hey, what's up with-!"

"Stay back!" she hissed.

Jak only stared as she claimed the other side of the wall of the doorway, peeking around its edge, then popping back, then peeking out again. Jak raised an eyebrow. What had gotten into her? He was only trying to-

An arrow whistled by his face and struck the back wall, its tip alive with orange.

Ten more rained into the building, setting the discarded bandages, wood, dried blood – all of it – aflame. Sepsu grabbed Jak by the arm and pulled him through the growing fires, back into another room that had a door leading outside. They ducked through it, fell to a crouch, followed the building's perimeter, and then peered around the edge.

The first wave of attackers were already shooting fire arrows at every building they could. The second came like a river of oil down the hillside, their forms black as the sunset fell behind them, their raised daggers and swords agleam. They descended on the village like crows on a carcass, picking things from here, ripping things from there. Jak watched in horror as many of the people he'd just healed fell to the ground, the arrows in their backs resembling a porcupine's quills. Others were stabbed. Some were kept alive and screaming, dragged away like loot instead of human beings.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy sh-"

Jak's words sputtered to a stop as Sepsu rose, a brave outline above him, an arrow already nocked on her bow and ready. One shot. Two. The first sailed right into a man's chest, knocking him over cold. The second, into a woman's eye.

Like eerie puppets controlled by the same strings, the bandits still standing farther off turned to them. The one leading them pointed to some of her men, then pointed to Jak and Sepsu while the rest scattered. They charged forth. Sepsu was able to fell two, but three others still raged forward, not bothered in the slightest by their screeching, dying comrades.

"Jak, sword!"

He stumbled to his feet and took the sword from his pocket, handling it as gracefully as he would a slippery eel. Was he really doing this? Could he do this? Why did his hands keep fumbling?

There was another tap of a nocked arrow. A whooshing. A heavy thump of body to ground. Sepsu jumped on one of the two bandits nearby remaining, dagger drawn and teasing the man's throat. His buddy, a heavyset man with a tattered fur cloak, tackled Jak and pinned him against the infirmary wall like a raging boar.

All Jak knew was the crushing arm at his chest, the flash of steel in red light, and the cold kiss of a blade tip twirling at his stomach as the man pondered over which way to gut him. Without thinking, Jak took his sword's handle, brought it before the man's belly, and slammed the button as hard as he could.

Hot blood. The vibration of shattering bones, traveling down the blade's extending form. The plink of a dagger falling fast to the ground. The man lurched, gasped, and swayed, taking Jak down with him as he fell and shuddered and died. Jak rolled over off his body and laid there, staring at the pink sky. He'd just killed someone, hadn't he? He'd killed someone. The dark eco mark, which had been burning before, now seared as he fell into a shocked panic.

He'd killed someone. He'd actually killed someone. He'd killed-

"Jak, are you okay?"

It was Sepsu's voice, though Jak could barely hear her above his own heartbeat and the roar of fighting not far. She leaned down to look at him, but soon was distracted by more bandits incoming. She tried to fight them off, vicious and elegant and quick, while he just laid there, crumpled into a useless ball, waiting for time to run out.

One second. Thundering heart.

Two. Tensing muscles.

Three. Blacking out as his eyes opened wide.

It was strange, being in the dark prison of his eco affliction. It was a lot like falling asleep, though he was still able to hear and feel everything around him. He sensed his hands taking the bloody sword's grip, jerking it free from the man's stomach, and the prickle of pine needles at his feet as he ran. A stab here. A slice there. The sound of choking and a warm throat between his fingers before they tensed and something crunched beneath them. And there was screaming, of course, the sound of which made his stomach churn even as he caused more of it.

Who he was cutting down or how many, he didn't know. All he knew was that, when he finally came to, it was in a bed of blood.

Jak gasped, then gritted his teeth as the dark eco traveled back through his veins to his heart. He tottered to his feet and took in all the carnage. The acidic, bitter taste of bile and tuberbread surged up from his gut. Only one bandit remained. A bald man with a scar across his right gray eye, who backed away from Jak like he would a rabid beast. Jak tried to step forward, but the man just turned and ran.

Jak fell to one knee, stabbing his sword into the wet ground to prop himself up. He lowered his head, scrunched his face in burning anguish, and tried to breathe.

"Jak?"

It was Sepsu's voice. He froze, refusing to look up and meet her eye even as she neared. She reached to him, either to provide a comforting shoulder squeeze or take him into custody, he didn't know. He tore his sword from the ground and dragged it behind, leaving both a line and footprints of blood on the forest floor as he fled from the burning, body-littered town.

Jak only stopped when he found an abandoned shrine quite a few minutes away. He settled next to its mossy, brass form, threw his pack and sword to the ground, and half-collapsed next to the stream that ran by it. He shakily peered over the edge. There were only fragments of a reflection between the reed stalks, overwhelmingly red with blood. He reached into the water, shattering it and obsessively splashing as much as he could onto his face, all over his arms, then pulled back before the water could still and show a clear image again.

It was dark before Jak raised his head from his knees. His wound was a cold space again. Dare he look at it? He pulled his blood-stained collar out and glanced down. As far as he could tell under the dim moonlight, it was the same size, but one tendril of its form now poked about an inch further upwards than before.

Samos was right. It was spreading. And he wasn't free, even now as he roamed the world without the sage to hold him back. He was just as much a prisoner now as he'd always been.

"I shouldn't have stopped in that stupid village," he muttered to himself, returning his face to his knees. "Precursors, what did I do!?"

The world answered with a chilly brush of breeze through the reeds. He began to shiver as the day's heat fled, giving way to misty night. Normally, he'd have built a fire and huddled over it, but he wasn't sure he deserved or wanted neither the warmth or light.

"Your feet are bleeding, you're honest to a fault, and you've got the wide-eyed look of someone who'd cry the moment blades were drawn."

As Sepsu's words resounded in his head, he wondered what she thought of him now. What had gone through her head as she'd watched him tear through bandit after bandit, gutting them and snapping their necks? Awe? Fear? Horror? Questions like this one rattled through his mind as the night wore on and he fell into an uneasy sleep. One haunted him more than the others: perhaps he really was cursed, like the villagers at home had said?

Maybe they were right?

He awoke to a dim sunrise, his body still huddled in the same position. He forced himself to stand and worked through a numb routine. He washed his clothes and sword in the stream, relieved at how easily the blood pulled from them. Then he let them dry in the lukewarm wind, ate what little he thought he could stomach, dressed himself, and headed in the direction of the path beyond Kunino.

He had to keep going. He had to pretend that nothing had happened, even as Kunino's residents woke and cleaned up the mess – the loss - he'd left behind.

You broke your three rules, you damned idiot, he spat at himself as he trudged onto the road. And you're not going to do it again. Don't be a hero. Just keep your stupid head out of other people's business and keep going.

Still, the thought of intentionally keeping himself away from others hurt. Not only had he had to cut himself from Samos and Keira, but he couldn't make new friends, either. His heart was as heavy as stone, for he thought he was alone again on the long, foggy path.

But he wasn't. Unbeknownst to Jak, something perched in the trees above, scrabbling from limb to limb as it followed not far behind. Had he felt able to lift his head and look back, he would have thought nothing of it.

After all, only its tail could be seen through the leaves, the orange and brown tip curling with cautious curiosity.