Writings of an Owlmoose

Summary: A chance meeting between two of Spira’s greatest warriors — Nooj the Undying and Sir Auron, the legendary guardian — will change the course of history.

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Death Shall Have No Dominion

Chapter Twenty-Four

Auron found Tidus slumped in a chair, a half-eaten hunk of bread in his hand. It was late morning, and another shift change had come and gone, the warrior monks resting in their quarters while Squab’s team took its turn at the front and Beclem’s men drilled and hunted fiends. He took a seat next to the boy and leaned back, lifting his feet to the fire for a bit of warmth. Tidus barely glanced at the senior guardian as he shifted in his seat, taking a bite of bread and then throwing his head back to look up at the ceiling.

“Restless?” Auron asked.

Tidus swallowed his food and sat up with a sigh. “Is this going to be much longer?”

Auron shook his head. “Hard to say. Probably not, but we don’t know how well supplied the temple is. It could drag on for awhile.”

The boy sighed again and flung himself back into the chair, tucking his chin against his chest and drawing up his legs. “Man,” he said. “I’d make a terrible soldier.”

Auron chuckled. “You’re doing fine.”

“Really?” Tidus raised his head, genuine surprise on his face. “You really think that?”

“I do. Your skill with the sword has improved greatly. And you do well with Yuna.” Auron cocked an eyebrow. “You haven’t been with her lately.”

“Yeah.” He slumped a little. “She’s been in her room with Lulu most of the time. Preparing, she says. I dunno for what.”

“For battle.” Auron relaxed slightly into his chair. “She is fighting her father as much as you are. Not so literally, perhaps, but it is true all the same. Braska truly believed in Yevon, and then the temples raised her after he was gone. To turn on all that is difficult for her, even though she may not let it show.”

“Huh.” Tidus sat up yet again, and Auron had to look away for a moment — the boy’s bouncing back and forth was starting to get a little dizzying. “I never really thought of that.” Turning his head sideways, he cast a glance at his mentor. “You seem to have taken to it awfully easily.”

After a moment’s thought, Auron let himself smile. “Perhaps so. But I lived in Zanarkand for a long time. I am not so much a part of this world anymore.”

Tidus dropped his head into a thoughtful nod. “I guess. But it’s still your home, right?”

“Yes.” Auron’s response was soft but heartfelt. “That is why I fight to free it.” He fell silent then, contemplating the dancing flames. Tidus sat quietly as well, no longer shifting in his seat but apparently also lost in his own thoughts. After several minutes had passed, Auron turned to his companion. “You should go to Yuna,” he said. “She can use all the help you can give her.”

The blitzer needed no further encouragement. With a grin and a nod, he jumped up and headed for the back of the inn. Auron sank more deeply into his chair and closed his eye, intending to rest, but before he could relax any further, the door to the Travel Agency slammed open. He sat up and turned around to see a messenger dressed in the official regalia of Bevelle rushing into the room. Years of warrior’s reflexes had him out of his chair and intercepting the man, hand on the hilt of his sword, within seconds.

“Pardon me, Sir Auron, for the interruption,” the messenger said, breathing heavily as he bowed. “I come in friendship with an urgent message for a woman called Paine. Do you know where I can find her?”

“Follow me.” Auron dropped his hand and led the man back into the inn, toward the quarters that Paine and Nooj were sharing. And there they found Paine, sitting in front of the door to the room with her sword in her lap; she picked it up and let it fall to her side as she stood.

“He’s sleeping,” she told her uncle, “and unless it’s vital I’d rather he not be disturbed.”

“Ma’am, I assure you it is vital.” The messenger bowed quickly while continuing to speak. “I come from the temple. Commander Julien has grown impatient with the siege and is planning to attack before noon. You have no time to waste.”

Paine raised an eyebrow. “And why should I believe you? For all I know you work for the other side.”

“I understand your concern, ma’am.” The messenger looked at her seriously. “We have a mutual friend in Bevelle. He told me that, if I were ever to meet you, I should tell you that your navigator sent me.”

“Navigator?” Auron shook his head but then saw that Paine’s eyes had brightened.

“Thanks,” she told the messenger. “I’ll put this information to good use. When you get back to Bevelle, tell the navigator that his pilot sends her thanks.”

“Ma’am.” The messenger bowed again, to Paine and to Auron, and then left.

When he had gone, Paine turned to Auron. “He’s legit,” she told him quietly. “That’s an inside joke I have with Baralai. We have to get moving right away. I’ll wake Nooj if you’ll fetch Kal?”

Auron nodded and then headed off on his errand.

-X-

With a reluctant step, Paine crept into the room and approached the bed. Nooj was sprawled out with limbs akimbo, unlike his usual compact sleeping position. He was also snoring softly and obviously deeply sunk into the well of sleep. She stood for a few seconds, wishing she could leave him to his rest, wishing she could just admire the smoothness of his brow and the peacefulness of his expression for another hour or so. But duty called; he would not thank her for her hesitation.

She placed her hand on his right shoulder and gently shook him. “Nooj, wake up.”

He was instantly alert, pushing himself up and brushing back his hair. “What is it? Have they come out to fight?”

“Not yet but soon. I just got a message from one of Baralai’s men that Julien and the warrior monks are planning a foray within the hour.”

“Does Auron know? And the others?”

“Yes, my uncle is gathering the troops. Here, let me braid your hair while you dress.”

Without protest, he turned his back to her so that she could put him in order while he pulled on his clothes and plotted how to meet Julien’s forces. Within minutes he was ready for battle, even taking the time to loop the despised gun over his shoulder. With Paine at his heels, he strode as rapidly as possible from the room to the front of the Travel Agency where the army had been hastily gathered.

There was an air of palpable excitement and glee surrounding the force. They were drawn up in military order with the infantry in the fore and archers behind, ready to fire their devastating bolts over the heads of the soldiers and into the bodies of the enemy.

Nooj, feeling refreshed by his sleep and invigorated by the prospect of taking the Temple, looked at his army with satisfaction. They were a better team than he had thought possible to gather in such a casual fashion and he was certain of their success this bright, hopeful day.

“Army of Liberation! This is your time to show the world who you are. You will march forth and bend the stubborn Yevonites to your will. There is no body of warriors in this world which can defeat you, armored and armed as you are with the right. You are the force for freedom and will bring the blessings of that gift to all the peoples of Spira who will more and more spring to your banner. You will escort the Lady Yuna to her rendezvous with the aeon of this temple and carry her in triumph on to Bevelle and then to the final battle against evil. And you will conquer, growing stronger each step of the way.”

He paused for the cheers of the troops. “One thing I beg of you… do not touch the warrior monk Julien. He is mine!” Nooj thrust his cane into the air as the men and women before him shouted their appreciation and vows of allegiance. “Now, follow me!”

-X-

There was not a great deal of space for maneuvering in front of the temple. The opposing forces were compelled to engage one another at close quarters. The warrior monks, indistinguishable by their garments, had to pause to check faces before slashing with their swords or loosing their arrows on their opposing counterparts. The Crusaders and the recruits had just to hope for the best and try not to kill anyone on their own side. In the confusion and the noise, Auron and Kal directed their contingents with gestures, aiming them at the recognizable defenders of the gates.

Nooj had set his sights on Julien from the beginning. The tall leader of the Temple monks had taken a position before the main doors and had nailed his feet there prepared to repel all efforts to breach the stronghold. He stood there now, glaring out at the combatants, his two-handed sword held defiantly before him, his mouth fixed in a half snarl/half sneer. A cohort of large monks stood around him, forming a defensive semi-circle protecting both their leader and the entrance to the Temple.

The rebel commander had cut and shot his way through the figures impeding his path. He was flanked on the right by Paine wielding her sword like an impermeable wall of steel and, a few step behind, by Aquelev who was casting protective spells and slashing with his blade as circumstances warranted. The three neared their objective in spite of the constricted room and the press of fighters.

Paine looked apprehensively at her Captain. Surely he was not planning to charge straight into that mass of humanity. He could never force his way through that citadel of flesh and reach the prize he sought. She hesitantly touched his arm. “Nooj!” she shouted over the turmoil. “There may be another way in.”

He did not seem to notice her presence for at that moment Julien, in his constant surveillance, caught sight of his foe — the young man who had disparaged his honor and shamed him before his lieutenants. The eyes of the monk suddenly glowed red with a nearly insane fury.

“Hey, you! You, the crippled kid! Still pretending to be a general?” The spittle flew from his mouth as he raised his sword and took a forward step. “They let you play to keep you out of the way or to get rid of you? C’mon, I’m here and I’ll take you off their hands. C’mon.” He waggled the blade in a beckoning gesture. His mouth stretched into a rictus and a silvery thread of mucous ran from one corner down to his chin and began to form a slimy trace across his armor.

Nooj made no response, only continued his steady progress toward the tall man. The guardian troops on either side of Julien were now being engaged by the vanguard of the rebel army and had their own lives to defend. They could no longer concentrate on providing a barrier behind which their leader could crouch. It was as though a bubble of space had opened around the two opponents, generated by the intensity of the hatred which had sprung almost instantaneously between them at their first meeting. Into this area they moved with a deliberate pacing, each carrying with him his own intention.

Nooj had dropped his gun as well as his cane and advanced with arms spread wide – a long dagger in his right hand and his left hand stretched out like a claw. Julien had readied his enormous sword for a fatal blow, poising it above his head and quivering in anticipation. There was a strange stillness for what seemed an eon.

Then, it all happened at once. As Julien swung at the body of his assailant, an arrow appeared in the middle of his chest; Nooj, ducking, lunged forward, plunging his dagger into the man’s armpit as he crushed the monk’s throat with the machina hand. He stared into Julien’s eyes as the light vanished and the body sagged, held upright only by the locked grip on the neck.

The Crusader turned, still holding the corpse in his grasp. About twenty paces behind was Kal, notching another arrow. The older Warrior raised an eyebrow and grinned. When he realized what had happened, Nooj returned the broad smile and added a nod. They would never know just whose blow had slain the fool but it did not matter. They were a team and this presaged nothing but good for the rebel cause.

Paine, who had been watching with terror in her heart, breathed again. She, too, gave a quick salute to her old friend and felt a knot untie itself somewhere inside her. She pressed her back against that of Nooj and prepared for the mopping up operation. Aquelev slipped to their side and offered Nooj his gun since there seemed to be no more foes within an arm’s reach.

The doors to the temple stood undefended and open. In the space before them, the remaining monks were milling about in confusion, uncertain whether they were expected to continue the battle now that Julien was no more.

From the other side of the battlefield, Auron saw his chance. “Yuna! The temple!” He caught her eye and gestured toward the open door. She caught his meaning immediately and nodded. Her guardians all prepared their weapons and crowded around her, shielding their summoner from any stray bullets or arrows, and then, as one, raced down the slope and into the open door.

Seeing that the remaining temple monks were being dealt with, Nooj thrust his gun into Aquelev’s hands. “Here, hold on to this. It’s useless inside stone walls. The ricochet is as apt to kill a friend as the shot to kill a foe.” Free of the heavy weapon, he led the trio through the doors of the temple on the heels of Yuna and her coterie.

Once inside, Paine swung her sword and neatly decapitated a stray Yevonite who made the error of coming within her reach. “Slow down, Nooj. We need to let our eyes adjust. It’s dark in here.”

Compared to the brilliance of sun on snow outside the sanctuary, the moderate illumination inside the temple was shadow-filled and it was indeed difficult to make out what was going on. The task of distinguishing monkish ally from enemy was especially troublesome. The three sheltered in a conveniently placed alcove at the top of the walkway and surveyed the hunting ground. Nooj made a mental note to himself to hold back a special group of troops to keep their eyes shielded until needed when next he encountered a similar situation. Every edge counted in warfare.

-X-

“Maester Seymour! Maester Seymour!” The lieutenant threw open the door to the central chamber, then slammed it shut and held it closed with his back. “Guards, to me, now! Let no one through this door!”

Confused but happy to have some orders to follow, the four soldiers who had been guarding the inner sanctum found their places by the portal, ready for whatever might come. As they pulled their swords and took defensive stances, Seymour entered the room, attracted by the shouting.

“What is it, Lieutenant…” he trailed off, clearly waiting for a name.

“Donal, your grace,” the warrior monk said, breathing hard but attempting to regain his composure. “I’m afraid I have bad news to report. Our attempt to break through the enemy lines was a complete failure. Commander Julien is dead, the rebels have taken the temple door, and at least one group has breached our defenses — they could be right behind me.”

Seymour gaped in alarm for a brief moment but quickly recovered and turned to the leader of his Guado bodyguards. “Get out there,” he snapped. “Defend the passage for as long as you can.”

“My lord.” The Guado bowed and motioned to his fellows. Half a dozen mages slipped out the door; when they had left, the warrior monks closed ranks once again and their new leader faced Seymour, standing stock still despite his fear of the Maester’s wrath.

“What happened, lieutenant?” Anger and disapproval mingled on the half-Guado’s features. Donal opened his mouth to answer, but before any words could come out Seymour cut him off with a hand motion. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter anymore. We need to plan for what happens next.” He found Baralai, who was, as usual, standing a few paces behind him and to the left. “You have battle experience, yes?”

“Some small skill, your grace,” Baralai said with a bow.

“All right. Gather up the priests and nuns and take them into a side chamber. Find the Lady Dona; the two of you can protect them if need be. But I doubt that will be necessary. I sincerely hope that the rebels do not get this far, but if they do, then Anima and I will deal with them.” Seymour chuckled. “Perhaps this disaster can serve as a blessing in disguise — if I stop the leaders now, the rebellion ends here.”

“A good plan, your grace. I hear your commands and obey them.” Baralai swept down into another bow, then walked down the stairs, leading the Yevonite faithful into the rooms where Dona and Barthello waited. Once they had gone, Seymour descended the staircase as well, taking his place with the five warrior monks who remained. “Don’t be afraid,” he said to Donal. “I shall stand here with you. You know your duty.”

“Yes, your grace.” The lieutenant made a brief bow and then returned his attention to the door, waiting for whoever might break through.

-X-

Beclem had assembled an elite squad of Crusaders to hold the main door of the Temple while Yuna and the others penetrated to the depths of the interior and the Summoner prepared for the Trial. He was directing them to their positions when Squab appeared.

“Hey, Squab! You going on in?”

“Yeah. I don’t see anything to fight out here. The monks still breathing are throwing down their weapons and begging to surrender. You?”

Beclem shook his head. “Somebody’s got to guard the gates in case they get their nerve back or reinforcements turn up. Can’t leave our back unguarded.”

“Right. Nooj know?”

“He told me to stay here.” Beclem sighed. “I’d rather go on in and fight.”

Squab clapped his friend on the shoulder. “You may see your share anyway. Nooj is usually right in his decisions. He has a real sense of what has to be done.” With that, he proceeded into the building.

Beclem shifted his feet, unwittingly smearing the little pool of Julien’s blood, and settled himself down to what he expected to be a tedious spell of watching for nothing. He was eager to get this business done with.

The military was his life but he had never enjoyed the long waits which were so integral a part. An active man, he relished the camaraderie, the vigorous exercise in the open air, the challenges both in training and in actual battle. He let his mind drift back to the games he had designed for the troops he had led, the ones which taught as well as strengthened. The faces of the young men and women he had commanded passed before him and he wondered how many owed their continued lives to the things he had drilled into them. With a vaguely self-conscious smile, he mentally slapped himself. He had done his duty and that was the important part. Now if standing bored in the snow was the duty demanded of him, he could do that as well.

-X-

Kimahri threw his body against the inner door at the bottom of the temple walkway. The wood shuddered and groaned beneath his weight but did not crack. He looked back at Auron and shook his head. “Too strong.”

Auron looked around the group as they took a breather on the landing. An unconscious Guado mage lay next to them, along with the bodies of the flying eyes he had summoned. They had fought several such battles on the way down; none had been difficult, but the effort was tiring. “Any ideas?” he asked.

“Fire?” Tidus looked at Lulu as he rested his hand against a spherical blue light resting by the door. Its glow bathed the pilgrims, renewing their strength. “You could burn them down.”

“No,” Lulu said. “All temple doors are shielded against magic. We’d melt the platform we’re standing on first.”

Yuna stood up with a grimly decisive air. “I will take care of this,” she said. “Stand back.” Kimahri stepped away from the door as she began to spin the staff, and within moments Ifrit appeared among them. The fire aeon leapt toward the door and punched it. After three powerful blows, the door splintered apart, shards of wood flying in every direction. With a breath of fire, the aeon burned the ruined door into ashes and then, with a nod to Yuna, sprang into the air and disappeared. The summoner dropped her arms with a soft sigh.

There was no time to rest, though, as two warrior monks burst out of the door, weapons drawn. Auron ran forward, engaging one with a shout, and Kimahri fell upon the other. As he fought the monk, Auron noticed Kimahri crossing his lance with his opponent’s sword, then knocking it aside and breaking through. He stabbed the soldier in the gut and tossed him aside. A painful slice in his arm drew Auron’s attention back to the swordsman he was dueling. As he took a step back to refocus his attack, a white blur whizzed past his head and hit the warrior monk full in the face, knocking the man down to the ground. He did not rise again.

Auron glanced over his shoulder as the blitzball returned to the hand that had thrown it. Wakka caught the ball and then cradled it at his side, looking shaky and rather pale. But he nodded to Auron, and Auron returned the nod before turning to follow Kimahri through the door and down the steps into the main room of the temple.

And there was Seymour, flanked by three warrior monks, one of them an officer. Auron barely had time to register this before the maester raised a steady hand and began to speak. “We meet again, Lady Yuna,” he said, tilting his head calmly. “I only wish it were under more pleasant circumstances. Really, why must we fight? We only want what is best for Spira. Surely we can find common cause.”

Yuna only gripped her staff more tightly and said nothing.

“The time for common cause is done.” A different voice spread through the room from the empty door. Auron turned around to see Nooj, along with Paine and Aquelev, coming into the room. “We have decimated your forces and taken the temple. You have lost this battle. Will you surrender, or will you force us to destroy you?”

Seymour lifted his head and coolly met Nooj’s eyes for the first time. “So,” he said. “You are the young commander about whom so much has been said. You, too, I have been hoping to meet again, although I would rather you had been in chains at the time, or perhaps a prison cell.” He gestured with his raised fingers, and the Crusaders who had been heading down the corridor halted abruptly at the door, their progress stopped by some sort of protective magic.

Squab, who had been leading the group, looked at Nooj, growling in helpless frustration. “Join Beclem at the entry,” Nooj ordered him. “Cut off any reinforcements who may come from Bevelle and try to retake the temple.” Squab nodded and turned back, taking his soldiers with him as Nooj returned his attention to the maester. Without thinking about his actions, he moved in front of Paine, using his hand to gently shepherd her behind him so that his body shielded her from even the gaze of the Maester who stood so arrogantly facing them.

The commander had not actually laid eyes on many Maesters. The ones who led the training in the desert were the only ones he had seen close enough to recognize if he met them again. Now, here before him once more was the notorious half-breed, the most ambitious man on Spira if rumors were to be believed. It was almost as though this man was destined to be his nemesis.

What he saw was a man who, oddly, reminded him of himself. They were much of a height, the Guado perhaps a little shorter, of similar build and both obviously schooled in concealing their thoughts. A fugitive notion whisked through his mind. In other circumstances, they might have been friends and allies. With a sudden start, Nooj focused his eyes again. Why had he thought that? Was the expert up there playing with him?

Making an effort, Nooj directed his attention to the words and actions of Auron and the others in the party of the pilgrims. He noticed Yuna had closed her eyes and seemed to be concentrating deeply, her staff lifted either in defense or in preparation for working some magic.

Then a small shadow in a distant door shaped itself into a woman. A woman of great stature and power. What fresh enemy was this? He was inclined to investigate, but held back until he could be sure of the intent of the woman and the muscular man who stood protecting her back.

His composure regained, Nooj turned to address Seymour. “If you wanted to see me caged, you missed your chance.”

“So I did,” answered the pale man with the blue markings on his skin. “I should have spotted you as a troublemaker back there in the desert. Well, I don’t think the opportunity is altogether lost.” With that, he dismissed the Crusader in favor of the Summoner. “I have terms of my own to give,” he told her. “Come with me. Forget this madness, and return to your pilgrimage with me by your side. We will save Spira together, forever, without needing to resort to such terrible tactics as war. Join me, and I will spare the lives of everyone here.”

Yuna shook her head fiercely. “You murdered your father, and you uphold the false traditions of Yevon. I will never surrender to one such as you!”

Her guardians closed ranks around her as Seymour laughed, a frightening and bitter sound. “Ah well. It was worth a try. Guards!” The three warrior monks drew their swords and charged in; Auron only had a second to parry the first blow as the battle was joined.

The first moments were chaos: Auron and Kimahri and Tidus engaging the warrior monks, Paine breaking past Nooj and into the melee with her blade held high, Yuna and Aquelev ducking to the back to cast the first round of protective spells as Wakka guarded them along with Lulu, who began trading elemental attacks with Seymour, fire and lightning and ice all flashing in the air. One monk died quickly, felled by a bullet from Nooj’s rifle and finished off by Paine’s sword; Auron made short work of the second and closed the distance to the maester only to be knocked back by a thunderbolt from Seymour’s staff. Third monk down– but no, only dazed, a quick incantation from Seymour and he was back on his feet, grappling with Kimahri again, tackling him to the ground and knocking the lance out of the Ronso’s hand, no time for the others to come to his aid as another barrage of elemental spells, curtains of water this time, fell down on the group, separating them from one another as they slid over the suddenly-slippery stone floor.

“Get back!” A high, clear voice could be heard over the throng, and everyone scrambled to obey, Kimahri rolling over to clear the way and knocking out his opponent in the process. Yuna stepped forward and tipped her staff to summon Valefor, the great colorful bird descending into the room and into Seymour, knocking him back with a sweep of her mighty wings. The maester stumbled and nearly fell, then regained his equilibrium and lowered his gaze at Yuna as she stared back at him, defiant.

“Foolish girl,” he growled. “You think to challenge me to a contest of aeons? Then you will know pain! Come to me, Anima!” He lifted a hand to his face, and the roof of the temple went black. Everyone’s eyes lifted upward as a heavy chain fell from above and crashed into the ground, shaking the building to its foundations and knocking everyone to the ground except for Yuna, who somehow managed to stay upright. With a groan and a shudder, the chain rose back up as if on a mighty winch, lifting its terrible burden: an enormous Aeon. Birdlike in form, wrapped in armor and scaled wings, blood dripped from her single eye. She fixed her gaze on Valefor and twitched her head with a piercing scream, a scream that Yuna’s aeon answered with a wail of pain before disappearing in an explosion of pyreflies. Yuna gasped and dropped to one knee, breathless with shock at the suddenness of the defeat. Seymour smiled, a look to chill the blood in his eyes. “You see, it is futile. Lady Yuna, won’t you–”

But whatever he would have said next was interrupted by a cracking noise as a burst of ice crystals blossomed between Seymour and his aeon, then shattered, the shards spattering them both as another aeon appeared — Shiva, the bearer of cold. She leapt forward and lashed Anima with her weapon, the creature shuddering under the blow.

Auron ran to Yuna’s side. “Yuna, how–”

Yuna looked at him as she got back to her feet, eyes wide. “I didn’t summoner her; I couldn’t. I’ve never–”

“Yuna!” The call came from the dark woman standing in the doorway. “Summon again, and we finish him together!”

“Dona?!” Yuna stared at her sometime rival as the other summoner stepped forward, brow furrowed with concentration as Shiva continued to attack her foe.

“No time,” she said through gritted teeth. “Later. Now summon!”

With no further hesitation, Yuna lifted her staff once more and called forth Ifrit. And the rest of the room held its breath as the three aeons fought, each summoner focused fully on the battle until with one last blast of ice, Anima succumbed to the greater force of the other two creatures and collapsed in a grotesque heap, then dissolved. Dona stepped back and so did Yuna while Seymour staggered, weakened by the struggle and by his aeon’s destruction.

“Finish him! Now!” Auron sprang forward from one side and Dona’s guardian Barthello from the other, their swords slashing in unison and running Seymour through, one from the front and the other from the back. The maester cried out, then sank to the ground as the light faded from his eyes.

Auron pulled his blade from the corpse and turned to Yuna. “Send him,” he said as he solemnly wiped the weapon clean before sheathing it. The girl came forward as Auron faded back, getting as far from the ritual as he could. And the summoner danced, making the ritual movements of arm and staff until the pyreflies gathered, sweeping up the bodies of the maester and the two dead warrior monks, swirling together and then rising, rising, and flying free, making their way from the temple to their final home on the Farplane.

Once it was done, the stone floor was empty. This enemy was gone, and would trouble them no more.

—

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