Jak and Daxter: Legacy

Chapter 12: The Past, The Future, The Now

There wasn't much in the days after Seem that Jak thought of other than the brass symbol they had given him. At times, he had to remind himself to look up from where it rested in his palm as he guided their boat through the swamp, otherwise he would - and often did - accidentally bump into trees or wade into reeds.

Daxter had said little, passing the time by curling up in the bottom of the boat, or standing on his hind legs with his paws and head drooped over the side for hours on end. Jak didn't mind the quiet, too busy charting a course through his own thoughts.

Jak came to realize that who he'd been in Sandover would not recognize himself now. Be it the strange clothes he wore, how accustomed he'd grown to the ache of constant travel, or the way his eyes were always trained on the horizon ahead, wondering what hard days awaited beyond every next bend.

The one constant between his sage apprentice and wounded wanderer selves, though, was their obsession with answers to their past. It was a well-worn, comfortable nook of his mind to return to, and given how the swamp crossing had been free of danger and distraction, for the first time since he'd left Sandover, he had the ability - and the reminder that the brass symbol was - to do so.

"Daxter?" he shattered the silence at last one misty morning. The ottsel perked up from his glass-eyed peering over the boat's edge. "How many Precursor ruins have you been in?"

"Too many."

Jak held out the brass object Seem had given him. "Have you ever seen this symbol in any of them before?"

"Nope."

"You didn't even look."

"Didn't need to. You've been wavin' that thing around for days. What's your obsession with it, anyways?"

"Remember when I told you that I'd been found outside some ruins as an infant? This symbol was in them. And they were the same ruins that, well…" Jak gestured to his own chest. He paused for a long while, hesitant to ask his next question, certain it all sounded silly. "It can't be a coincidence, can it?"

Daxter crossed his arms. "You're takin' what that monk said a little too seriously. They also claimed that some nutjob took down a bunch of Precursors just 'cause he was mad they didn't nurse his booboo. The Precursors skedaddled long before Mar was supposedly even around! Those monks can't even get the timeline right."

"But Seem also knew that I'm trying to find Gol and Maia in Haven. What I don't understand is, is how they knew all that. And how did they get this symbol? And why did they give it to me? There's no way they could have known about the ruins in Sandover, right? And even if they did, how did they know I was from there? I'm not exactly an easy person to place. It's like… they had all the answers to a question I've been asking my entire life."

"And what question is that?"

"Where am I from?"

Daxter shrugged. "Jak, your ma probably left-"

"Left me there. I know."

Jak curled his fingers over the brass symbol and closed his eyes with a sigh. It made sense. Keira had thought the same, too. But something deep inside him stirred; a sense that there was more to it than that. He recalled the same memory he'd had on the Mistarch. Of a dark blue figure setting him down and fading into a brass mouth.

Had that been his mother? Had she gone into the ruin after leaving him there? And what was her connection to it? There must have been some reason the voice in the ruin had called him 'test subject number three' and knew who he was? Who had test subjects number one and two been? Had his mother been one of them?

But that's impossible. The Precursors left thousands of years ago. My mother wasn't alive back then. I'm not even sure humans had been created yet when that ruin was new. But I'm here, and I was a 'test subject'. So she could have been, too. Maybe it wasn't the Precursors that had built that facility? But none of the children races could have made anything that advanced, could they? Unless someone took an old Precursor ruin and reworked it into something new? Northerners have advanced tech, don't they?

He opened his hand again and stared at the brass symbol once more. Perhaps, if he could figure out what the symbol meant, he could figure out what the facility he was left outside of was for?

Project: Legacy. A legacy is something you leave behind. Something you give to the future from the past, Jak smiled. The ability to plant a tree under whose shade only the distantly born may bask in, as Samos said. Maybe that's what those ruins were for? Something the Precursors - or whoever made that injection machine - left behind for us? A gift?

Jak looked down at his chest where his eco wound sat, grisly and twisting and black. There's nothing about dark eco that's a gift, though. It's a curse, if anything. Why did the Precursors have that technology, anyways? They must have had some good reason? Or if they didn't build that injection machine, then why did whoever did build it do so? And if I was test subject three, and my mother one of the others, maybe she's gone because she died from dark eco? Maybe she left me for Samos to find because she was going to die soon after?

The thought soaked him to the bone with cold dread. He shook his head and focused on the symbol again.

At the very least, northerners messing around with Precursor tech would explain why Seem had this symbol. And it would explain why I look the way I do, if my mother was a northerner, too. Maybe Seem knew my mother, or whoever had repurposed the ruin? I wonder if I could find more answers in Haven?

"Tell ya what," Daxter padded up to Jak and leaned on his knee to look up at him. "How 'bout, after all this junk in Haven with Gol and Maia, you and I go and try to find out where you're from? There's gotta be some clues out there somewhere, right?"

"Really? But what about your family? Aren't you going to go home to them?"

"Ah, they don't need me. 'Sides, I like to go where the wind blows."

"Or whatever bridge you happen to fall off of."

Daxter sighed. "First of all, that joke was hardly worth the air ya used to tell it. Two, ya really wanna get dunked in a river eleven times when I get my body back? 'Cause I will do it, if ya keep that up."

"Eleven? Last time you said ten."

"Quit rackin' up sass debt, then! But seriously," Daxter lightly punched his leg. "What do ya think about that? You and me, travelin' the world? Sleuthin' out your past?"

"I've never really thought about what I'd do after Gol and Maia. I'm just hoping I get that far. But…"

"What's wrong?"

Jak shrugged. "What if… I never find any answers? Any family? And I can't go home to Sandover ever again."

"Pssh, who needs those assholes, anyways?"

"Well, it'd be nice to see Keira again, at least."

"Keira?" Daxter waggled his eyebrows. "Sounds like a babe's name."

"Yeah, she's a girl."

" Just a girl?"

Jak's face started to burn. "Yeah?"

"And what color is her hair?"

"Why does that matter?"

"It's green, ain't it?"

"So?"

Daxter gave a smirk. "She doesn't happen to be that green-haired girl ya blabbed about earlier about how cute she was, is she?"

"No!"

"Then why are ya blushin'?"

"I'm not!"

"Oh man , you've got it for her bad! That does it: we're definitely findin' her after Haven!"

"And just how am I going to explain why I have a talking ottsel hanging around?"

"First off, who knows? I could have my body back by then. And even if I don't, Jak, do you know women? She'll take one gander at me and the cuddles'll start pronto. All it requires is some shiny eyes and a waggin' tail. Trust me. I've got experience with these things. Don't worry, I'll make sure to tell ya all about how her lap feels."

Jak's cheeks were on fire. Daxter burst out laughing, rolling all over the boat bottom as he cackled.

"You're lucky there are things in this water that would eat you, because otherwise I'd be throwing you in it."

"Me? I'm not the one that needs to take a cold bath."

"I hate you," Jak turned around so that his back was to Daxter and sat down again. "I really do."

"So, how many times have ya sucked face?"

"None! And besides, it's not like that."

Daxter gave a greasy, sleazy chuckle. "Boy, the pious sage's apprentice gettin' fresh with the village babe. That why you said her name in your sleep the other night?"

"That didn't happen!"

"I dunno, these ottsel ears pick up stuff real good, Jak. And it wasn't quiet, eithe-"

Something rustled the bushes on the shore. Both of them froze. A light shimmered beyond the leaves and vines. Before Jak could peer closer, it hurtled out, singeing the foliage, a streak of gold as it shot towards them.

It hit the boat and left a smoking hole in the hull. Jak stumbled to his feet and tripped back over the other side into the water. As he resurfaced, more projectiles blasted into the boat, and splinters rained into the air amongst the furls of yellow energy that trailed from the sides of the impact craters.

"Dax!"

An orange head peeked above the side, then Jak's face was suddenly covered with fur as the ottsel flung himself off the boat to safe "ground". He peeled Daxter off his head, held him aloft above the water, and rushed for the other shore, dodging more attacks by dunking under, hurling himself side to side, then as soon as his boots touched earth, he dove into the wall of reeds.

Laying down on his front side, hair plastered to his face and dripping, Jak shakily clicked an eco cartridge into his pistol, took a deep breath, and peeked through the reeds.

There was nothing on the other side. No more attacks. Just sunlit, quiet swamp, and a sinking boat.

Daxter loaded his own pistol at Jak's side, where he also laid down. "What in the ever livin' hell was that?"

Jak shrugged just as something came forth from the bushes where the blasts had come from. It was a woman with pointed ears and bare feet, her straw colored hair in a neat bun. Bronze armor made of layered plates shone on her form. A flame of yellow eco glimmered in her hand. She glanced around, investigated the sinking boat, then looked up at where they'd disappeared.

"We know you're still there, red bastard!" she called, the yellow eco in her hand crawling higher. "Come out!"

Jak and Daxter glanced at each other in terror.

Another yellow eco fireball flew overhead. "I'm getting impatient!"

"Just stay put. I'll try to talk her down," Jak said.

" You ? You've got the charisma of a rock."

"And you're supposed to be a dumb animal." Jak started to get up, but a paw grabbed at his arm. "No, if she hurts you, things will get bad."

"What? How could they get any worse?"

Jak jerked a thumb at his own heart. Daxter jolted with realization, then let Jak go, but still didn't look pleased. Jak shuffled away from Daxter on his elbows and knees.

"I'll come out if you put away your eco!"

Through the reeds, Jak could see her flick her head in his direction. He didn't like the way she smiled one bit, teeth showing in a sadistic curve.

"I'm armed!"

The smile remained. "Your sinful weakness doesn't frighten us! Just like every other red we've met - turning your back on the Precursors and making deals with those demons from the north! But unlike you, we don't need weapons to harness yellow eco's power!"

Jak glanced around in confusion, then a memory hit him:

"Keira, look at me. Do I look anything like any of you?"

"Maybe there was a passing caravan? Maybe your parents were of different tribes? You look a little red, maybe some yellow…?"

"So two people of two different tribes extremely far from here that hate each other's guts got together..."

"I'm from the green tribes! I'm not your enemy!"

She laughed.

Jak huffed in frustration and rolled his eyes at himself. What was I thinking? Even the folk back home I grew up with didn't believe that.

"I don't want any trouble! Look, I'll toss out my gun and come out unarmed, if you promise to hold your fire!"

"Or I could just blast you into a smoking crater?"

"Ya know, she's actually kind of attractive, now that I think about it," Daxter whispered.

" Not helping."

The ottsel shrugged.

"Coming out now!" Jak called. He trembled and got to his knees, then warily peeked above the reeds, holding his pistol by the barrel and lifting it into the air, his other hand also rising to show that it was empty. To his relief, she staid her eco and only glared as the rest of him emerged, eyes narrowing more when she looked at his hair.

He tossed the pistol aside. "See? Friendly. Just a simple green tribe boy. I know I don't look like it, but I swear," He pressed his pinkies to his palms. "On the Precursors, on nature itself, that I'm telling the truth. And look at my ears! Pointy, right? Not a northerner, either."

"None of that proves you're green."

Jak thought about channeling green eco, but wasn't sure he could trust her, even though she channeled herself. As he hesitated, she looked behind herself at the opposite shore she'd come from, then behind Jak, and whistled a specific short tune.

A whole line of armored yellow tribals emerged on the other side and crossed the water with ease. Then the brush behind him rustled. Before he knew what was happening, bronze spear points and hands frothing with yellow eco surrounded him in a circle, angry faces behind them. Someone picked up Daxter by the scruff.

Jak's dark eco wound started to prickle. "Don't hurt him!"

The leader strode forward, expression smug, yellow eyes almost gleaming with excitement, head cocked to the side. "Let's take you back. I think, after some... gentle convincing, we might wring some answers out of you about your red friends."

Jak had been bound and dragged by his tied ankles for three hours by the time they got to wherever they were taking him. A wedge of mud, algae slime, and reed bits had dried on his cheek, growing layer by layer as they continued to pull him. A few even spit on him and kicked him, but he remained relatively calm, for no harm had come to Daxter, who the leader held like a puppy in her arms, scratching his chin with a finger.

And he was looking quite content about it. Jak raised a brow. At least one of us is getting treated well.

They arrived at a large lake. Under the shadows of the swamp canopy - thicker here than it had been anywhere else - the waters looked pure black. A dock stretched into the murk, alongside which bobbed thin boats with spiral ends that curved towards the sky. Jak was tossed into one with spiteful force. Jak's head ached from the impact and he gritted his teeth. The leader let Daxter down, and soon he was at Jak's side, pawing at his shoulder to make sure he was okay.

They rowed across the lake, the leader guiding the way with her hand held aloft and aflame with yellow eco.

They came upon a city more jaw-dropping than even the one in the Precursor Basin, not because of its size, but because of its impossibility. Huts suspended by monstrous vines from the trees above, and more swayed beneath those, attached by massive ropes like a chain of bird houses. Others sat on stilts over the water, connected to a mass in the middle by wooden bridges. The large cluster center was made of layers of huts stacked atop each other, leaning this way and that; drunken friends resting on each other for support. They reached all the way to a canopy-suspended net of more vine-clutched houses.

At the heart was one bigger than the rest, marked with the three-river symbol for 'wise' at its peak in ember-like marks. Golden birds flew around the swamp hollow, and people with matching hair walked and climbed about, laughing, talking, bartering, playing music on bowed instruments, and huddling around big fires.

Forgetting his pain and frustration, Jak said, "Precursors, this place is amazing."

The burly man guiding their boat looked back and down at him with a glare.

They brought him to a small port of sorts. The burly man hefted Jak onto the docks, then the dragging began again. Jak almost missed the mud; now, he was accruing a large amount of splinters in his left side as they traveled the wooden walkways. Most of the group that had surrounded them earlier dispersed, and only Jak's hauler, the leader, and Daxter remained.

Jak swung upside down as they climbed to the sage's house on a wide rope ladder, giving him a view of the swamp city from above. He was then tossed over the lip of the main entrance. Jak crumpled into a ball, cold, wet, one side of his face covered with mud, splinters stinging in his skin, body still sore from the Mistarch and hours of being pulled over swamp muck, roots, and stones.

The main hall was similar to Chios' in Jadecrest in size, stretching ten carved pillars back to a central throne made of yellow eco crystal and brass. More crystals swayed from the ceiling in a net of vines, bathing everything in gold light, birds resting atop them in feathery huddles.

Tapestries lined the walls. Jak recognized the flowing, uneven style and the stories they told, similar to those he'd once heard at home; the Precursors' arrival to the black space that was Nadoa's cradle, the creation of Nadoa, the making of the races, the giving of the gift of eco to their peoples (yellow, in this case), and the Precursors moving on to the next star, creating and teaching the souls that followed them there. Each's central idea or figure gleamed with gilded thread.

Two tapestries wider than the rest suspended from the ceiling beside the throne, showing one of Nadoa's suns each. A hole in the roof poured in sunlight in a single great beam, which had come in through a hole in the swamp canopy above the huts, down to the throne itself.

"It's a shame we should even have to bring you here," the leader said, suddenly at Jak's side, glaring down at him. "You do not deserve to walk these halls. But I will not let you out of my sight. Rell, prepare a room while I watch him."

The burly man nodded and headed off to a side room. Meanwhile, the leader removed her armor, a servant waiting near the throne rushing forth to take it. The exact cut of her yellow robes beneath let Jak know who she was immediately.

"You're a sage?" Jak blurted. "Precursors' blessings to-"

"Don't pretend you don't know who I am."

"You're pretending to know who I am," Jak spat back without thinking. Under her glare, he added quickly, "I've got red in my hair, but there's also blonde in it. And the rest of me looks nothing like any of the red tribe folk."

"A northerner working for the reds, perhaps. In any case, I do not trust you."

"My ears?"

She ignored him.

Soon, Rell came back out, and the sage handed Jak's rope back to him. He dragged Jak to a room off to the side. It was just large enough for four people to stand side by side in. Rell hoisted him into the central chair. They tied him to it with ropes around his wrists and legs. The sage let Daxter down, motioned for Rell to leave, then stared Jak right in the eye as soon as the door shut behind her.

"So," she started conversationally, as if they were old friends visiting over some tea. "Let's see what you're hiding."

Her hands wove through his pockets and back pouch, taking out his eco cartridges, money, and food. Then she patted down his shirt and belt, removing his dagger and sword, putting them in the bag she'd carried his pistol in since the ambush.

"Hmm, no eco checkers. Or shackles, either. What's your title?"

"Title?"

"What do you do?"

"For what?"

"Tell me what they hired you for."

"I don't work for anyone. I'm just traveling."

She rolled her eyes. "Let me ask a better question: who do you report to?"

"Look, I understand. Your tribe doesn't like the red tribes. But I'm not one of them. I'm not a northerner, either. I know I can't prove that, and I get that I don't look like I'm from a green tribe. But whatever it is you're asking about, I have no clue how to answer, because I'm telling the truth."

Her face furrowed and scrunched. "Do you really think I'm a fool!?"

Jak shook his head nervously.

She turned away, hands pressed together behind her back. "Day after day, you ambush us, shackling us, selling us to those monsters in the city. And every day, you take more and more."

"The red tribes enslave you?"

"Don't act shocked!" she leaned down, glaring him right in the eye again. "Hundreds of our people have disappeared in the past few years because of demons like you! Now, you're going to tell me every last detail of your operation," Yellow eco frothed in her hand. "Or you're going to pay for your silence with pain."

"I don't know anything!"

"Wrong ans-"

Someone knocked at the door. The sage paused. The newcomer cracked it open. It was Rell, his gaze stuck on the sage's hand hovering over Jak's sweating face with yellow eco.

"Apologies for interrupting, but Sig is here to see you. Says he only has tonight to stop by, then needs to return. But he's got a message from your sister. Should I have him wait in the main hall, or...?"

"Bring him in here."

"But Kada, isn't here a little...?"

"Does he want to deliver the message, or not?"

"Definitely. I mean, you're right. I'll go… uh, get him. Right away."

The door slammed shut.

Kada pulled away, but still glared at Jak. "Today's your lucky day. Sig hates slavers even more than I do. And Wastelanders have no patience for mercy."

Jak was numb with fear; had he not been tied, he'd have been shaking. A deep voice echoed outside the room, growing in volume as time passed, mingled with Rell's quiet, stuttering one. They were talking about taking down a Metal Head the size of a town square, laughing about it until they got to the door.

"Thanks, Rell. And hey, let me know if you could use any of those metal plates from it. I've always got buyers in Haven, but I'd much rather sell to you folk out here."

"Mm-hmm. Kada's in there."

"Ah, duty calls," the door flung open. "Kada, how've you been? It's been too damn long, my-"

The newcomer - Sig, Jak surmised - froze. He had dark skin and a green eye, the other covered with a ruby lens prosthetic much like the one in Jak's goggles. Armor made of what Jak realized were Precursor robot or ruin scraps covered his tall, well-built frame, gleaming in the light of the yellow eco crystals on the walls. He wore a long draping of tattered leather, one end tied to the front of a single shoulder, running over to his back, then around in an open-front skirt over pants, tied with various sashes at his waist. His ears were cut like a northerner's, but many pieces of the stumps left were missing.

A gun that Jak had never seen - part rifle, part staff - sat in his right hand, the arm of which was completely robotic from the shoulder down. It resembled the mech's Jak had seen in the ruins back home, but bulked out with metal that had been hammered into a rough replica of a flesh one. The arm made a quiet, mechanical whirring sound, and the blue eco veins forged throughout its length glowed with power as Sig lowered his gun to rest its bottom tip on the wooden floor.

"Kada, I respect you. A lot, actually. But what in the hell is going on here?"

She sighed. "An interrogation. A very slow one."

"Interrogation?"

"We caught him trying to sneak through our lands earlier today. A slaver, I expect."

"Who is he?"

"I'm trying to find that out. Says he's from the green tribes."

Sig glanced Jak over. "Doesn't look like any seaweed I've ever seen."

"Exactly," Kada turned to Jak again, who leaned as far away as he could. "Which is why he should start talking."

"I have been talking! You just won't listen."

"Hmm… something doesn't smell right. Mind if I take a look?"

Kada nodded and motioned for Sig to go forward. Sig first searched through Jak's belongings, focusing especially on the yakow jerky and his water pouch. Then he patted the mud off of the side of Jak's face, and took Jak by the chin and moved his head this way and that, looking over him.

"You usually cut your facial hair that way? Who taught you that style?"

"Yeah. Our sage did."

"Your sage?" Kada almost hissed.

Jak's heart did a little flip. He was supposed to be dead and never speak of his previous life, but if he didn't explain, he knew he might end up in an actual grave. "He raised me."

"Which sage?"

"Samos? From Sandover. It's on the south coast."

"Can you channel?"

Jak shrugged and half nodded, half shook his head. "Maybe? Neither of you are slavers, are you?"

Kada leaned in again, eyes menacing. "Is that even a question?"

"Well, it's kinda… hard to… when I'm tied..." Jak wriggled his hands, took in a deep breath, and summoned eco. It was frail, given how uncomfortable he was, but jade trails fluttered up from his palms and wove around the ropes nonetheless. "See? Channeler, just like you. Not a slaver. Now, can you let me go?"

It was the first time he'd seen Kada's face lose its anger, melting away to soft perplexion as the eco cast a green glow on her face, then died. Sig rubbed his own chin, then looked Jak in the eye, still much taller than Jak even as he kneeled down in front of him.

"I think he's tellin' the truth, Kada. I've been to Jadecrest before. Their men always cut their facial hair this way. And I don't think someone who can channel would be in the business of outing his fellows to slavers."

"But just look at him! And his clothes! And no green tribal would touch a gun," Kada spat.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Jakan Kur. Jak."

"Alright, Jak, tell me: do you know who Chios is?"

"Jadecrest's sage?"

"Second question: what does green eco work off of?"

"Generosity."

Sig gave Kada a grin. She didn't return it. "Last test…"

Sig went over to the bag with Jak's pistol in it, pulled out the gun, and then started to untie Jak. As soon as the ropes were loose, Sig offered the pistol to him. Jak hesitated to take it, glancing at Kada.

"What are you doing?" Kada asked.

"Just wait and see."

"You're giving my prisoner a gun ? Who's to say he won't just shoot us with it?"

"Don't worry. If he tries anything," Sig picked up his own gun staff. "I'll blow his head off. You hear that, dough boy?"

Jak nodded faster than he ever had before, took the pistol, and bowed his head to Kada before they left. Sig led him out to the main hall and down the ladder to the docks below the sage's hut. Daxter had followed close behind, then scrambled to Jak's shoulder as they'd started descending, his worried paws kneading into him. Kada watched from the sage's hut above.

Sig glanced around the dock. He grinned, then pointed at an empty barrel at the farthest end. "Shoot that."

"Shoot it?"

"Yep."

Jak waveringly raised his arms, the pistol held firm between them. He peered through the sight, though kept glancing at Sig, who was watching him closely.

"I don't got all day, kid. Shit or get off the pot."

Jak lifted the pistol, aimed, and fired. The bullet sped past the barrel by a slim margin. Sig smirked.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing… now, for the final test. See that bird up there? The big one with the missing feather?"

Jak found where he was pointing. It was one of the yellow ones he'd seen earlier, huddled by itself on one of the vines atop a hut, cocking its head this way and that and singing as if it couldn't be happier. "Yeah?"

"Put a bullet in it."

"I… but, it's not…"

"What's the matter? It's just a bird."

It's not just a bird. It's a living thing, Jak thought.

"You're telling me you can't shoot it? Why not?"

"I don't want to."

Sig cocked his gun and started to lift it.

"Wait, wait!" Jak lifted his pistol. "I'll do it, just give me a second."

Sweat dripped down Jak's neck. It was his life, or the bird's. It may have sounded stupid to everyone else around him, but he'd been taught to never harm any life if not for food or defense. To do so would be to harm the Precursors' creations, and so would mean to harm them . Jak raised his arms, which started to shake. He aimed for the bird, but then at the last moment, brought the gun down and shot at the water.

"See?" Jak shrugged and holstered his pistol as fast as he could. "There, I tried-"

Sig burst out laughing. Jak stared in confusion. Eventually, Sig wiped a tear from his single eye and said, "There ain't a northern bone in your entire body! Kada, you've got a bonafide green boy on your hands! He couldn't harm a fly, even if he wanted to."

To Jak's shock, Kada had come up behind them, and was smiling as well. Jak glanced between them. Had he… passed?

"It seems you were right, Sig," she said. "My apologies… Jak, was it?"

"Wait, I'm confused. What's going on? I thought-"

Sig crossed his arms. "I've been around your folk before. You can't harm nature, can you? I knew the moment you hesitated shootin' that bird that you were telling the truth. Also, your aim is piss poor, if that wasn't a dead giveaway itself. I bet you haven't had that pistol for longer than a month. You're on your way to Haven, aren't you?"

"How'd you know?"

"Lots of tribal folk come to Haven, thinkin' they'll make a fortune in the city instead of breaking their back on a farm. 'Course, most of 'em end up with no money and a slit throat within a week of walking past the walls…"

"We've taken a lot of them in," Kada said. "The ones that make it back to tribal lands, at least."

"And that's just counting the ones that don't get scooped up by slavers. Speaking of which, Kada, I've got some news for you. The bad kind."

That night, Jak found himself in the sage's hut again, not as a prisoner, but as a guest in a spare room almost as nice as the one he'd stayed in at Forgesong. After the shooting test, Kada had insisted he rest, bathe, and stay the night as an apology for how he'd been treated, to which Jak had readily agreed. She'd given him a tour of the place, let him eat at her table as a fellow sage, and then had bade him a good night.

However, he didn't realize that his stay would be punctuated by Kada and Sig's voices just outside the window, where they'd taken residence on a balcony off of Kada's chambers just one room over.

At first, he'd tried to not listen out of respect, burrowing further into the golden silk blankets of the bed, trying to focus only on the flamefringe bugs swirling around the eco crystal lamp on the ceiling, and the rustle of Daxter's snoring. But their conversation was all too interesting - and chilling - to ignore.

"It's that bad, huh?" Kada asked.

"Yep. I mean, Haven was no walk in the park before, and Damas wasn't perfect by any means. But Praxis and Erol are driving it into the ground. Every day, I'm asking myself what horrible thing they'll do next."

"Have they found the Underground yet?"

"Ha! There's no way Praxis or Erol'll ever find the Underground. But that doesn't mean they won't gut every sucker that gets in the way of their search."

Erol , Jak thought. Is that the same guy that the tailor in Riverjoint mentioned? The racer that kills people?

"And how's the Willow House? Tess? And her girls?"

"Smooth as silk, excuse the pun. Says it makes good money. Seems she found a way for tribal folk to make an honest living in Haven."

"Selling our sacred culture for entertainment. Not that I blame her. If that's what she needs to do to survive, then so be it. And I'm sure the girls appreciate a safe place to stay."

"Well, you know Havenites. They think you folk out here are mad barbarians. Dress up a couple of quote unquote 'exotic' women, make 'em do magic tricks, and you'll have those rich suckers eating from your glowing hands for days."

"I'd rather them eat my fist."

They both laughed. Jak started to drift off to sleep.

"Speaking of, here's your letter. I'll take one back in the morning, if you've got one."

"I'll be sure to write one tonight. Oh, and one more thing. About that green tribe boy…"

Jak perked back to full awakeness again.

"I know."

"Could you at least… you know?"

"I'm no babysitter, Kada. But," Sig sighed. "I can at least help him get there. Get him through Myra's territory."

"That's a good idea. Myra's folk are a little less..."

"Antagonistic?"

"That's one way to put it. I suppose with their being so near Haven, they understand that the Baron is not a man to make deals with."

"Yeah, Myra's got her head on straight. She's never dealt in the slave trade, least as long as I've known her," Sig paused. "But after that boy crosses those walls, he's on his own."

"It's a shame. Why even go there in the first place?"

"Not sure. But within a week, I bet he'll be asking himself the same damn thing."

Because I have to , Jak answered silently, fingers rubbing the eco wound on his chest. I just hope I survive long enough to find my cure.

In the morning, just as he'd discussed with Kada the night before, Sig had asked Jak if they could take the trip to Haven together. Jak had readily agreed, glad for someone so skilled and knowledgeable to lead the way. Then Kada bid them farewell, handed Sig a letter, and the two of them sailed off on a borrowed rowboat to the other end of Fengullet's pool.

Most of the morning had passed in silence, Sig and Jak taking turns guiding the boat through the north end of the swamp, but by noon Jak had gotten comfortable enough to start asking questions.

"So, Sig, right?"

"Yep."

"Are you from Haven?"

"I'm a Wastelander, born and bred."

"Wastelander?"

"Yeah. Northwest of Haven is a big stretch of land called the Wasteland. Dry, dusty, and almost nothin' grows out there, thanks to folk diggin' out eco that way for centuries, 'til the land just gave up and died and broke apart in places. But I love it. It's home, you know?"

"If you were born there, then how did you survive?"

"One of the Yin bands took me in as a boy."

When Jak gave a puzzled look, Sig smiled. "That's right. I suppose down south you don't see Yin much. They're made of metal, but they're just like you and me otherwise. Precursors made 'em just like they made everyone else. But the Shurn reprogrammed them with intelligence. Then the fighting began. They still don't get along well. Centuries of war and slavery will do that. But the Yin do just fine for themselves. Some still live in Haven. The smart ones don't. They don't need water or food, so the Wasteland makes for a fine home for 'em."

"I saw one in some ruins once. I don't think it was intelligent, though."

"Yeah, there are some that weren't reprogrammed. They call 'em the Dreaming Yin, still asleep. That's probably what that one was."

"Reprogrammed…"

Sig shrugged. "I suppose even that word doesn't make sense to you. Everyone's got a personality, right? It guides how we act. 'Cept theirs is installed in their hardware literally. Ours is a little less literal than that."

If Jak was honest, he wasn't sure it made sense even with an explanation, but he nodded anyway.

"How about you?"

Nervousness prickled his gut. But when he caught Sig's eye, there was warmth there. Honesty. He didn't know why, but he felt he could trust Sig, as if he'd known him for years. Sig didn't have the steely look of other northerners he'd seen before, no matter how rough and battered his exterior seemed. Jak looked at Daxter, who laid beside his boot on the boat bottom. Daxter didn't look tense, either, and if Daxter trusted him, Jak thought he could, too.

"I was a sage's apprentice down south in Sandover. Something happened and I had to run."

"Mm. That why you're going to Haven?"

"Yeah," Jak's hand was on his dark eco wound again. "I'm looking for a cure."

"Lot of people go to Haven for a cure."

"They do?"

"A cure for boredom. For poverty. For loneliness. A life of little fame. Problem is, is most walk out with a disease worse than what they came in with. Lie down with dogs, you'll get up with fleas."

"Mine's a little more real than all that."

"That so?"

They were reaching the end of the swamps, the trees thinning out, the land turning to flat, sunlit marshes again. From this distance, Jak could make out what looked like a giant line of brass far to the north, shining beneath the afternoon light.

"What's that?"

"Our destination."

" That's Haven? We're that close?"

"Yep. Largest city in the world. And those are just the walls. If you look close, you might even be able to see some of the Bowl district towers. At least Heavenlance."

Jak leaned forward and squinted. Just as Sig claimed, a few splintery points rose above the walls, gleaming like needles. His heart thundered. Whether it was because he was excited, afraid, anxious, or amazed, he wasn't sure.

They eventually came upon the end of traversable water. Together, they dragged the boat behind them for hours, hopping from bog mat to bog mat, sometimes needing to help the other back up out of muck that'd looked solid moments before stepping on it.

Along the way, Sig taught him more about shooting, asking him to practice on abandoned merchant carts or the dozens of ancient Precursor weapon bot corpses littering the landscape, giving him pointers and advice. Over time, Jak was able to hit one time out of ten rather than twenty or more. Not a number he was proud of, but anything that improved his chances of survival, he was glad for.

Another cluster of huts just like the one before they'd entered the swamps with Seem awaited them. Sig handed the boat to the ferryman, who smiled back and chatted with him for a while, like an old friend. Others tipped their heads in respect to Sig.

The land beyond turned from marsh to meadow, then meadow to a stark line of death that slashed through the grasses like a brown scar. Beyond, the landscape resembled a completely different world of dark canyon, devoid of life other than the occasional weed, kangarats scrounging for food, and insects that resembled beetles, but were twice the length of Jak's foot.

The greater strangeness were the robots and machines. Some were exact replicas of those back in the Precursor Basin city, arms pointed towards the sky, chunks of them blasted out by some great weapon, or fallen to ruin by time. Weaponry and other machinery Jak didn't understand sat around them, some likely cannons, others resembling giant metal boxes on long legs, tipped over and cracked. Glass tubes like those back near Passheart wove between them, but none carried eco. Far in the distance, closer to Haven, stood an unbroken line of large mechs like soldiers in a solemn, titanic march.

"Is this the Wasteland?"

"Ha! The Wasteland makes this look like a kiddie pool. But, give it a few centuries, and it probably will get just as big. If they keep sucking out all the eco, that is. Hey, you're a channeler, right? Give your magic a try."

Jak gave him a puzzled look. He brought his hands forward and willed green eco to his palms.

Except none came. Jak jolted his hands again. Nothing. He took in a deep breath, closed his eyes, sensed the familiar pang of energy at his heart traveling down his arms to his palms...

Not even a glimmer of jade.

Jak flicked his hands back and forth, as if to sling water off of them. "I don't get it?"

"No eco around to use. When you're in Wasteland, you're in dead land. Well, except for dark eco. You can find lots of that here. Trust me, though, you don't want to touch it. I've seen someone fall into it. Not a pretty picture."

A chill crept through Jak as he let his hands back down. "Noted."

By night, they'd set up in a hollow beneath an arch, kangarats roasting on a skewer over their fire. Daxter looked squeamish at the sight. Jak gave him an apologetic look, then handed him a dried fish from his pack.

As Jak laid there on his threadbare blanket, he stared at the brass wall gleaming in the distance. His heart drummed all the while. After some time, a paw batted at his arm. Jak glanced down.

Daxter stared back, eyes glinting reflectively under the moonlight, but Jak could make out concern in them. Jak looked up at Haven, then back down at Daxter a few times. Daxter followed with his own glance between, cocked his head, drooped his ears, then leapt up to his shoulder, pulled something out of Jak's pauldron pack, and dropped it in his hand.

Yakow jerky. Jak smiled and pulled another dried fish from his pack and handed it to Daxter in return. They absentmindedly chewed their food and sat together, eyes stuck on Haven.

"Kangarat's ready, if you'd like a bite," Sig said.

"Maybe in a bit, but thanks."

"Suit yourself." A ripping of meat off bone could be heard. "Mm! They don't look it, but there's no better meal out here than one of these."

Jak and Daxter glanced at each other with a nauseous look.

After they finished eating, Sig sat on a stone and polished his gun staff with a cloth. He explained to Jak how to take care of a gun as he did so. Then, as he gave it one last wipe, staring at the grime on the cloth, Sig said, "I don't mean to pry, but what kind of disease are you lookin' to cure? Maybe I could point you in the right direction?"

Jak shrugged. "All I really need to know is where Gol and Maia are."

"The Acheron twins," Sig furrowed his brows, the leather of his gloves making a scrunching noise as he balled his hands into fists. "Kid, you might as well turn around and go home."

"What do you mean?"

"They're the Baron's court sages. High up on the pecking order. Even then, they hardly come out. I know one person that's seen 'em up close. Once , and she lives in the same damn palace."

"But what if I go to see the Baron? He's like a sage without eco, right? A leader doesn't just turn away people in need."

Sig laughed louder and longer than Jak had ever heard him laugh before.

"The Baron doesn't give two shits about street rats like you and me. He ain't nothing like a sage. Sages take care of their folk. You're lucky if the Baron thinks highly of you enough to stamp his boot to your neck."

"Then why is he the leader? Who puts someone in charge like that?"

"Get a big enough gun, and people start nodding to everything you say."

"But there's gotta be some way to get an audience with him? Or to get to Gol and Maia?"

"Well… there might be some way. But it's so slim a chance, you might as well start wishing on a star."

"Tell me."

Sig sighed. "Gol and Maia at least do come out for the winner's banquet for the Mar Stadium races, as all the Baron's folk are required to attend. Even then, only the top three winners get to go. And even then, you'd probably need money to slip to 'em under the table, just to turn their eye."

"How much?"

"Thousands, probably. Look, kid, I like you. You've got a good heart. But you'd need a miracle to pull it off. Do you even know how to race?"

"I… can try to figure it out? How long do I have?"

"The first race starts in a month and a half. And you'd be going up against people that have been warming the track their whole lives."

Jak swallowed hard.

"I don't know what kind of disease you have that you need Gol and Maia for, but I'd try to find some other way of healing it, if I were you."

Sig put the fire out. Jak's heart thumping the loudest it had in days, he numbly rolled to his back and stared at the sky above, the choking eternity of dark space staring back.

Midway through the night, Jak awoke to flame again. He flung up, hand clutching his chest, feeling as if he was going to die. He glanced over at Sig, thankfully still fast asleep, then burst to his feet and stumbled beyond their camping hollow.

He ran until he almost tripped over a ledge atop a chasm of shadows. Wavering on one foot, he caught his balance and shifted back a few steps. Sweat coated his skin. The fire in his heart grew again, and he fell to his knees, one hand digging into his chest, the other carving little ruts in the dead soil.

Jak suffered there for a while. Every time he thought the dark eco wound was dying, tamping it down with pleasant thoughts, it came back stronger and angrier. Though, none of it ever traveled farther than his heart. There was no threat of turning; no danger to protect against, no thought of a loss other than himself, and that was a small comfort, especially when no part of him felt comfortable at all.

A paw poked his arm. "Dinner didn't agree with ya?"

Whatever Daxter had seen when Jak turned to face him, in such agony that he couldn't even squeak out a single word to reply, it made the ottsel flinch. He paced around in a worried frenzy. "Shit, shit, shit! This eco wound of yours sure knows when to act up! Don't worry, buddy! I'll find a way to-"

Jak achingly lowered his torso and head to the dirt, then grabbed Daxter by the scruff. He pulled him in close, the ottsel nestled in the bend of his arm, trying to focus only on the feel of his fur beneath his fingers as he held him. Daxter seemed to get the memo, for he squeezed his arm back.

They stayed that way for a while, Daxter muttering about something random and lighthearted; Jak only picked up pieces of a story about his mother and something about the ocean. But even when the eco wound finally died down, Jak did not feel better at all. The clarity of what laid ahead - the brass wall across the wastes and water before them, gleaming coldly in the moonlight - was all too apparent.

"I can't do this," he mumbled at last.

"You back, buddy?"

Jak unfurled himself off of the dirt in slow, heavy-breathed efforts. Daxter still clung tight to his arm. "I can't do it."

"What do ya mean?"

Jak swallowed down a surge of nervous nausea. "I've lost everything."

"What are ya talkin' about? We're almost at Haven! And in one piece. Aren't ya glad?"

"Did you hear Sig?"

Daxter shrugged. "Yeah, Haven's a pile of trash. I told ya that a month ago."

"But Gol and Maia…"

"I know. But that doesn't mean it's impossible."

"Daxter, I don't know how to race. I can't raise thousands in months."

"You could, given enough time."

"Time's the one thing I don't have!"

Daxter recoiled from him. Jak covered his face with his hands and slumped back down. "Sig's right. I should just turn back and wait it all out."

"But if ya wait it out…"

They both were quiet for a long time. Jak's eyes wettened, the light of Haven between his fingers blurring into long, unavoidable streaks no matter where he tried to look.

Then, the sound of pawsteps scraped through the dust. Daxter stood on a rock in front of him, arms crossed, blocking out the city, giving Jak a stern stare. "Jak, look me in the eye, 'cause I'm gonna tell ya a story."

He did.

"Once upon a time, a handsome ottsel found a cave and decided to take a snooze in it."

"Gee," Jak sighed and wiped his eyes. "I wonder who this is about?"

"Shut up and perk up those potato ears of yours. I'm not done! Said handsome ottsel went crawlin' into the dark of the cave, and lo and behold, there was a guy in it. A weird-lookin', sour-mooded ball of angst, and the moment this handsome ottsel tried to say hello, he screeched like a wimp and got offended when the starvin' ottsel borrowed some of his food."

"You stole my jerky."

"That tasted like shit. Anyways, then the handsome ottsel got caught in a trap and was bein' temporarily pestered by some wolfadgers, and when everyone else woulda just walked on by, the guy stopped and helped. The ottsel tried to thank him, but the guy was kinda stubborn, and told him to get lost. The nerve !"

"Jerky."

"Anyways, despite the guy's bizarre obsession with poor-tasting food, and his grumpiness, he finally saw the light and let the handsome ottsel tag along to help each other out. Then, everything changed when they got to Basinbreak. All the sudden, Metal Heads were attackin', and the handsome ottsel was almost turned into a snack. But the grumpy ass put himself between the Metal Heads and the ottsel, turned into some freaky madman, and beat the snot out of 'em, and they both lived because of him."

"Then, they got to some Precursor dump, and slavers came prowlin'. They tried to shackle the guy, but thanks to the handsome ottsel's ingenious thinkin', he was able to get free, and they both lived because of him. Then they got some new duds, drank and fished a bit, and it turns out, maybe they weren't travelin' with one another just for convenience. Maybe the ottsel kinda actually liked this grump? And ya know why?"

"Because I'm a carriage and a free meal?"

"Yes, aaaand … because the ottsel realized, hey, this guy ain't so bad. He might push people off of bridges too much, and has some anger management problems, but he's different. In a good way. Because he tries to be nice in a world full of assholes that don't even bother makin' an effort."

At that, Jak finally smiled. He tried not to; he didn't want to agree.

"And then, if that wasn't enough, they traveled across the Mistarch, despite heapin' evidence that it was a bad idea. The ottsel thought they'd die countless times, but no matter what, be it keepin' 'em from freezin' with green stuff, or hangin' on as a freakin' rogue wave tried to batter 'em off the side, they both lived because of this same guy."

"And some preachy monk tried to convert us."

Daxter grinned. "And some trigger happy, confused tribal rubes took us captive."

"And then…"

Daxter looked at Jak, followed his stare to Haven ahead, then jumped down and patted Jak's knee. "My point is, is that I didn't drag your carrot-headed, sappy bumpkin ass this far just for ya to turn around. Gol and Maia will be hard to get to. So what? We've survived worse shit before! And we'll keep survivin'. Because if there's anyone on this stupid rock who's stubborn and dumb enough to look death in the face and keep stumblin' his way past it, it's you."

"It helps to have an annoying talking animal along for the ride, though."

"And I'll keep annoyin' ya!" Daxter crawled up his arm, sat on his head, and leaned down to talk into his ear directly. "You try to give up again, and I'll never let ya hear the end of it!"

"My ears hurt already."

"Good. Think of 'em before you decide to get bummed again, 'cause I ain't afraid of yappin' 'em to shreds with another pep talk."

Daxter was right. They'd survived a lot of impossible odds before. And even if Jak didn't believe him... even if he didn't believe they had a chance of surviving Haven, never mind getting to Gol and Maia in time to cure his wound, at the very least, he wouldn't have to face it all alone.

Jak sighed, the weight of the ottsel on his head as annoying as it was comforting. Together, they got up and stood at the cliff's edge, two little shadows in a land of death, staring out at Haven's blinding light.

"Thanks, Dax."

"Don't mention it."