To all the awesome people reading, thanks! And I hope you enjoy.
Here we go!
By the time Jak woke up, the morning was in full swing. Daxter was already awake, dancing to something on the old radio that was playing. He could distantly hear the sounds of glasses clinking together. His eyes took a few minutes to refocus and adjust.
"Morning, sunshine!" Daxter jumped onto Jak's chest and peered into his face. "Feelin' better?"
Jak sat up and swallowed. His throat was parched, but the headache and nausea that had plagued him earlier was gone. "Yeah," he rasped. "Actually, I do."
He got out of bed and stood up. The world stayed steady around him, for which he was grateful. He went to the water pump and got a tin cup full of water.
"I'm glad to see you're up and about." Jak glanced over to see Ionna, a tray of medicine in her hands. She set it down while he gulped down a drink. A few seconds later, she handed him another glass with crushed up pills dissolved in it. "Drink up."
Jak obeyed, still shuddering at the strange taste and texture. "There. How many more of those do I have to drink?"
"Just one more. I'll give it to you tomorrow morning, then you can leave." There was a call from another bed and Ionna disappeared to help the patient.
Jak wondered back over to his bed. "Well, Dax, now what?"
"Just relax," his friend said soothingly. He picked up a thick, academic—looking book and handed it to Jak. "Here, read some of these doctor books. Check out page 23, it's really cool!"
Page 23, as it turned out, had an anatomically correct diagram of a male prostate on it, which caused Jak to roll his eyes and Daxter to laugh uproariously. Jak shut the book and almost threw it at him.
"If you're bored and want something to do," Ionna said, suddenly appearing at the foot of the bed, "then you can start making med kits. Damas likes to replace everyone's kits every few months, just in case, so you can imagine how many we have to put together."
She brought him a stack of small boxes, each about the size of a pencil box. Each box needed a set of medical supplies, she explained. Bandages, a jar of salve, a bottle of disinfectant, a syringe full of anesthetic, a cold pack, and a small vial of green eco.
"Hey, how come we gotta do your work?" Daxter complained. "We go out all day, running around in the desert, gettin' sand in places we don't want sand! And you make us do more work when we're sick."
"Consider it payment," Ionna said evenly. "For saving your life."
"Didn't save my life," Daxter grumbled, but Jak couldn't argue, so they got to work.
The rote, thoughtless work gave the pair a chance to talk. At first, it started with simple chatter—mostly by Daxter—but it eventually turned back to their life in Sandover.
"I'm just saying," Daxter said, tossing a roll of bandages to his friend, "I miss the ocean! The good ocean, not this gross monster ocean." He made a face and Jak laughed. "Seriously! It's full of weird sea monsters!"
"Sandover had the lurker shark," Jak reminded him. "It's not that different." He gently set the roll of bandages into the box and sealed it. He set it aside in the finished pile. "I actually miss Snowy Mountain more."
"Really? That place?" Daxter rolled his eyes. "Ugh, that place suuuucked!"
Jak picked up an empty box. "I mean, it never snows in Haven. It sure doesn't snow around here."
As they talked, the door opened, a bell above ringing. A boy walked in, glancing around. "Miss? Miss, I'm here for the morning run!"
The boy was fairly young, maybe 13 years old, tall and skinny. He gazed around the infirmary. When his eyes landed on Jak, his chest puffed out in pride and his hands immediately went to a beaten leather satchel at his side. He nodded at Jak (in what he must have thought was a stoic manner) and said in a self-important voice, "I deliver the medicine to folks. Just here to pick some up, warrior."
"Huh." Jak locked eyes with Daxter, who was biting his lip to keep from laughing. "That's a pretty important job."
The boy's dark eyes lit up. "Yeah! It is!"
Ionna came up just as Daxter gave a snort of laughter. Jak slapped his hand over the ottsel's mouth.
"Good morning, Rios." She handed him three different vials of medicine and watched him gently settle them into his bag. Once he was all together, she handed him a few metal coins that he excitedly pocketed. "Make sure you watch Lyle take his. He's a stubborn old man, likes to think he's invincible."
Rios nodded. "Yes, Miss. Anything else you need?"
"No, Savara is stopping by after lunch. But thank you, that's very kind."
Rios nodded to both Ionna and Jak before turning around, briskly walking out into Spargus. Jak removed his hand and Daxter burst into laughter.
"Oh, man, kids crack me up!"
Ionna smiled warmly. "Yes, Rios is…very proud of what he can do for Spargus. He's already been caught trying to go fight Marauders. At least this keeps him out of trouble."
Rios' arrival seemed to signal some kind of change in the daily routine. People started coming in after that, the bell chiming above them acting as a warning. Most of them didn't pay any attention to Jak; several recognized him and gave him the silent nod of respect that Wastelanders gave each other as a greeting.
Jak was surprised by how many Wastelanders stopped by; it seemed like there was a never-ending stream of people looking for Ionna's help. She spent her day dealing with various citizens, taking the time in between to refill vials and mix up medicine.
A mother with her young child, who had hurt her wrist climbing the rocks, quickly had it wrapped and braced before being sent on her way. An older man with a cough was given thick syrup to drink, but warned not to drink it all at once. Three very dehydrated, very sun burnt young Wastelanders were given a stern talking to about how the desert was different than the city, a jar of green aloe, and plenty of water.
A mechanic with stitches, an infant with a temperature, even a worn-out warrior who just asked for a bed were all given what they needed and sent on their way.
All, Jak noticed, without paying anything to Ionna.
"How come you don't charge anyone?" he asked her during a lull. He and Daxter had made several dozen med kits by now, stacked up in rows beside his bed. Ionna was calmly measuring out ingredients for some kind of paste. "No one is paying you for everything you're doing."
"Yeah, you'd make a killin'!" Daxter said. "You could have anything you want! You could have a swimming pool…with a diving board…full of chocolate…" Jak rolled his eyes, but Ionna did answer his question.
"Out here," she said, still focused on her task, "disease and injury are as common as sand and sun. If I charged for my services, a lot of people would die. I'm afraid I can't abide by that."
"So how do you eat?" Daxter asked. "No money, no food, right?"
Ionna capped the bottle she was working on and pulled out a pen to label it. "Well, for starters, Wastelanders like to trade. This isn't Haven, where only money gets you goods. I have a lot of things lying around that people are more than willing to barter for."
She held up the jar with satisfaction. "And, secondly, I don't make these for my health. I sell them to some of my contacts in Haven, and a few in Kras City. They fetch a fair price."
They were cut off from their conversation by a frantic woman with two toddlers, both of them speckled with some kind of rash. Ionna led them away for some kind of bath soak, leaving Jak and Daxter to themselves.
It eventually died down again around lunchtime. Another teenager came by, this one a girl, to deliver medicine. Ionna gave Jak some meat stew to eat and monitored him as he did so.
"I feel fine," he said as he stuffed another spoonful in his mouth. He was starving. "Seriously," he added as she gave him a skeptical look.
"Not nauseous? Queasy?"
He shook his head and swallowed his food. "Nope, perfectly fine."
Ionna nodded, pleased. "Good. You're making a full recovery."
She started eating her own bowl, sitting in the chair nearby and resting her bare feet in a basin of hot water. Things were quiet: Jak was the only patient left, as the others had been discharged.
Of course, Daxter didn't really do quiet.
"You know, you never gave us a real answer," Daxter said to her. "Why are you so good with eco?"
Ionna's hands stilled and Jak feared Daxter had upset her. However, she quickly resumed eating and said, "At one point, I was in the monks, training to become the sage of light eco. Nowadays, I just try to put my skills to good use."
"You used to be a sage?" Jak asked.
"No, I used to be an acolyte," she corrected. "There's a lot involved in being a sage. I never made it that far."
"What happened?"
"Praxis. War. The Wasteland." Ionna shrugged. "Take your pick. I gave up a lot just trying to survive."
She didn't say anything more, and her demeanor told Jak that she wasn't going to. He let it drop.
Daxter, however…
"I'm glad you're not a goofy monk," he said. "Those guys are ca-ray-zee."
"Ha. Crazy, they may be, but I was trained as one." She gave a wistful smile and sighed. "I was one of them since I was a little girl in Haven City. Back then, I never dreamed I'd be where I am now."
"There were monks in Haven?" Jak leaned forward, curious. He'd never heard of the Precursor monks before stumbling into Spargus. "We knew a sage there, but he wasn't a monk."
Ionna blinked. "Huh. Now that's interesting." She shrugged and took another bite. "Well, I've never met a sage who wasn't trained as a monk, but that doesn't mean anything. The power to become a sage comes from the eco, not the training."
"His name was Samos. Know him?" Ionna shook her head. Jak gave Daxter a look. "Huh. Wonder what he isn't telling us."
"Ha!" Daxter rolled his eyes. "Knowing him, probably a lot."
"What happened?" Jak asked. "Were the monks banished?"
"Hmm…not exactly." Ionna gently set her empty bowl and spoon aside. "A long time ago, the leader of the monks ordered us to come out here to the desert temple, and wait until Damas arrived to lead him to Spargus. She had a vision of the future and warned us that we had to help him."
Jak and Daxter gave each other a curious look. The only person they knew with any powers like that was sitting in Haven, cross—legged in a tent.
"…Onin?" Jak guessed. Ionna looked surprised. "We've met her before."
"I didn't know she was still alive," Ionna said, stunned. "She had to stay behind in Haven due to her age, so I just figured…"
Ionna went quiet: she appeared to be thinking about something, her eyes faraway. Finally, she asked, "Did…did Onin send you out here?"
Jak shook his head. "No, that was…" He shrugged. "Someone else. But I'll be she and Samos both knew what would happen."
He felt a rush of anger suddenly. Of course Samos knew what would happen. And he hadn't stopped it, he'd just let Jak be banished and thrown out into the desert and die…
His angry thoughts fizzled out as Daxter said loudly, "Hey, can we talk about something else? Not to be rude, but all this monk babble is boring me." He hopped down to the foot of Jak's bed. "Ooh, ooh, I know! Let's talk about us! Or even better, let's talk about me!"
Jak rolled his eyes, but Ionna chuckled. "Well, if you're going to interrogate me, I'll return the favor." She smiled at Jak. "Where do your talents for light eco come from?"
Jak stiffened. "I…I've always been able to channel," he said truthfully. "I wasn't trained or anything. I just…did it."
"Interesting." Ionna didn't tell him what was interesting, but she continued, "And you mentioned the same affinity for dark eco, too. I've never met anyone with such an innate ability to channel."
"Hey, hey!" Daxter waved his furry paws in the air. "What about me? You know, I won the Haven Racing Championship," he bragged. "Yep, I raced our way to victory! There was a few times it looked kind of hairy, but I pulled through…"
Jak folded his arms and sat back against the pillows, letting Daxter's prattling turn into background noise. He glanced over at Ionna.
She looked strange…almost worried about something. She had a faraway look on her face, as if she were trying to figure out a puzzle she just couldn't quite grasp. Jak watched her for a moment, before she suddenly looked up and stared directly at him, eyes intent on him.
He turned away, focusing on Daxter instead. He didn't really have time to worry about the weirdness of monks or former sages or whatever. He had enough on his plate.
Still…he couldn't help but feel that he should worry about it.
The rest of the day was relatively peaceful. There was a rush of patients who came in later in the day, but, as Ionna explained, that was usually when the Wastelanders returned from their missions. It wasn't until almost sundown that people stopped coming in.
"I have somewhere I have to go," Ionna announced suddenly. Both boys glanced up at her uneasily. "Don't worry," she assured them. "I very rarely have patients come in around this time."
She started to strap on her boots. Jak hesitated, not sure what he wanted to say, but Daxter beat him to it.
"Hey!" he shouted. "You can't just ditch us! What if some poor guy comes in here missing an arm or something? I'm not sewing any limbs back on!"
Ionna rolled her eyes. "I figured you wouldn't want to be here alone." She wrapped a scarf around her neck, poising it to cover her mouth. "I already called for someone to take my place. Another Wastelander should be here in a few minutes to keep an eye on things."
"You going into the desert?" Jak asked. Ionna nodded. "Safe trip."
"Right." She gave them both a stern look. "Don't you two get into any trouble. I mean it."
With that, Ionna went out the door, the bell chiming as she stepped out. Jak watched her leave, then gave Daxter a mischievous grin.
"I'm not going to get into any trouble. How about you, Dax?"
Daxter folded his arms and smirked. "I would never! But, if, say, we found something to throw…?"
"…And something to throw into?" Jak finished.
"Well, we could just…practice our aim!" Daxter leapt down onto the floor and scampered away to search the infirmary."Yeah, we won't get into any trouble at all!"
"Right." Jak grinned and started digging around in the drawer nearby. "No trouble at all."
"There ya are." Kleiver banged on the hood of the Dune Hopper and handed the keys to Ionna. "Don't break me buggy."
"I was going to sink it into the sea," she replied, climbing into the front seat. Kleiver grimaced at her. "Just joking. I'll bring it back safe and sound."
"Great. Don't get eaten, either." He wiped his hands on a rag and walked away as she started the buggy up. He gave her a salute as he headed into the garage, which she returned before heading out into the desert.
"Alright, bullseye!" Daxter jumped up and whooped in the air. "I'm winning, Jak!"
Jak grumbled and picked up another tongue depressor. "By, like, two points." He took aim at the bedpan that was leaning against the wall and flung the tongue depressor. It made a dull thunk as it hit the edge and bounced off. "Shit!"
"Ooh, swing and a miss! Looks like Orange Lightning is up." Daxter threw the next one, which missed the bedpan completely and hit the wall. "Aw!"
"Yes!" Jak picked one up and was about to throw it, when the door opened. He glanced over and was surprised by the newcomer. "Damas? What are you doing?"
"What am I doing?" Damas looked around the room, confused. "What are you doing? Shouldn't you be resting?"
"Um…" Jak shrank back a little at Damas' stern gaze. "Well…"
"We were bored!" Daxter snapped. Damas walked over to the pair and pulled up a chair. He looked around appraisingly: a dozen or so tongue depressors littering the floor, a bedpan set up as a target, two teenagers looking guilty. "We were just playing a game!"
"Hmm." Damas turned towards Jak. "Are you feeling better? You look better."
"Yeah. Thanks." Jak folded his arms. "So, what are you doing here?"
"Ionna called for backup," he replied. "I was free, so I came down to help." He glanced around uneasily. "Is…is she here?"
Jak shook his head. "No, she already left."
Damas' face seemed to relax. "Ah. Of course you two wouldn't be doing this if she were around."
"Uh, yeah. Speaking of which," Daxter said nervously, "how about we keep this between the three of us? I don't want to end up mummified with bandages."
"Hmm." Damas reached over and took a tongue depressor. He turned it around in his fingers. "Who's winning?"
Jak grimaced petulantly. "Daxter is."
Damas took aim and flung the tongue depressor. It landed directly in the center of the bedpan, reverberating through the room. "Not for long," he said threateningly. "You'd best try a little harder, warrior, or you'll be in third place."
Jak grinned and picked up another one. "You're on."
Ionna was barred from the monk temple.
There was no shield that stopped her from entering, nor armed guards or threats. But having been outlawed from the monks, she was not allowed inside. Not that she had any reason to come to the monk temple anymore. No, that time of her life had passed. The ban had never bothered her before. It didn't bother her now.
The monks' seclusion period ended at sundown. The monks, eager for fresh air, trickled out from the entrance. As Ionna sat on a broken chunk of metal and waited, many of them greeted her, some with her old title. She smiled and nodded, waved hand signals and gave ancient Precursor greetings. But her eyes were always on the lookout for the one monk she needed right now.
Finally, she appeared.
Seem walked slowly into the sand, savoring every second of cool air on her skin after having been inside the temple for five days. When she spotted Ionna, her eyes widened.
"Ionna. What are you doing here?" Seem approached her cautiously, almost afraid. "You know you…are not allowed inside our walls."
"I stayed outside," Ionna replied. She stood up and, with a surprisingly firm grip, seized Seems' upper arm. "Get in the buggy, Seem. We have something to discuss."
In Haven City, the monks had a temple in the mountains, high above the city. It towered over the palace, as if to remind everyone that the Precursors were above any mere man.
The first lesson learned as a monk was to never—under any circumstances—interrupt another monk's mediation or prayer. Such a time was considered sacred, when the monks would look to the Precursors and self-reflect on their own state of being.
The monks would usually pray once per day, though some of the older ones prayed more often. They would retreat to their own quarters, or sometimes to the more secluded areas of the temple, so that they could be alone with their makers.
Ionna's favorite place to pray was on a cliff, overhanging the entrance to the temple. If she listened closely, she could hear the sounds of the agricultural district: the metal scraping of the farmers' tools, the sound of water sprinkling on the crops, indistinct shouts and orders. Peaceful and serene, but still connected to the world.
When a monk interrupted her prayer to take her to Onin, Ionna was immediately on edge. Prayer was untouchable to the monks; to break the meditation of another was considered highly disrespectful, so it must be important.
Onin sat in an empty hall, on a threadbare rug. The years had taken their toll on the monks' leader. Her eyesight was starting to fail, and she could no longer walk, even with her staff to help her. Her skin had started to wrinkle and cling to her bones, though she hardly seemed to notice her aging.
"My child. Sit." Onin gestured next to where she sat, her spindly legs crossed. "We have much to speak about."
Ionna obeyed without question. She was the light eco acolyte, yes, and highly respected as a result. However, she was still young then, inexperienced and raw, like an unpolished gem. Onin was her elder, her mentor, her master.
Once she was settled, Onin reached out with her bird-bone hands and gently grasped Ionna's own fingers. "Ionna, it is time we talk about your future."
Ionna felt a shiver up her spine. For some reason, the words struck a chord with her, reminding her that Onin could see further than anyone else.
However, Onin simply said, "I have always had visions of your life. Small, but important events that only you can set in motion. However, recently, these visions have become clearer…and more ominous."
Ionna felt Onin's hands tighten. "Onin, what do you mean?"
"Mar's heir will be dethroned." Onin said it with such finality that Ionna didn't even question it. "Haven City will descend into a storm, a fight which threatens to destroy it from the inside out. It will land on a precipice, hanging by a thread over an abyss."
"What should we do?" the younger girl asked. "Should we warn Damas?"
Onin sighed, touching one of her hands to her temple. "…It is a burden, to know what the future holds. No, we cannot warn him. He will have to face his trials alone, without our guidance. Unfortunately, that is how it must be."
"However," Onin continued, "I have seen the past, as well. The two will collide soon, and that will be our chance." She began to gesture with her arms, eco sparkling out of her fingers. "A hero will emerge, and that hero will save Haven City…and our world."
"So, we have to help this hero?" Ionna looked down at her own unnaturally pale fingers. "What do I need to do?"
"The hero will have powers unimaginable, powers only Mar foresaw. He will hold the key to balancing the good and evil of the world. It will be up to you and Seem to teach this young hero, so that he may use his powers to save our world from destruction."
"Seem?" That surprised Ionna. She thought of her young charge, the girl who was barely twelve years old. She was still hesitant, unsure of herself, struggling to accept her place in the swirling darkness that surrounded her. "But Seem is a child. She has a long way to go before she can train anyone else."
"It matters not," Onin said firmly. "In times of war, we must prioritize our energy. Ready or not, Seem must train the hero, not in the ways of eco, but in temperance."
"…Onin…I'm not sure I understand." Temperance? Ionna shook her head. "What do you…?"
"Shh, child, and listen," Onin said gently. "Trust me, you will understand when the time comes. The two of you are crucial to this mission."
Ionna swallowed. "I understand, Onin."
Onin inhaled. "Listen carefully. You must prepare for the storm that is coming. I will provide you with all the knowledge bestowed upon me by my predecessor. I will give you the scrolls and scriptures, I will give you the tales of our ancestors. Most importantly, I will give you the maps."
"…Maps?" Ionna's brow furrowed. "Maps of what?"
Onin gestured west, where the horizon was nothing but sand. "Of the world beyond Haven. You will have to take the monks and leave, to follow Mar's heir beyond the walls of his city. That…is the only way to save it."
"What about you?" Ionna blurted out. "Why won't you lead us?"
Onin gave her an enigmatic smile. "I am old, Ionna. I am frail. I will not survive such a journey. I can barely move about the temple."
"But…" Ionna glanced around the temple. "Why me?"
"The Precursors have chosen you as their hands," Onin said quietly. "Just as they chose me as their eyes. You must trust that they will guide you along the right path."
Ionna was still confused, but she nodded. "Of course, Onin. That's what I've always done."
"Good, my child." Onin let go of her hand and smiled. "Go back to your meditation."
Ionna nodded and stood up, bowing as she started to leave. She hesitated, however, and turned back. "Onin? Can you tell me how long we have until this happens?"
Onin frowned. "I can only tell you one thing, child."
"What?"
"Time is of the essence."
