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-Two

When he was awakened by brilliant, shadowless light the next morning, Nooj did not at first remember where he was. He moved to turn over and groaned at the aches in his body. The right arm and leg seemed as unresponsive as the limbs on the left side. There was no part of his person which did not repay movement with agony. He had not hurt so badly since the last of the surgeries following the disastrous battle with Sin. Biting back the inclination to howl like a wounded animal, he closed his eyes and tried to restructure his memory of the day before.

It had ended better than he had dared to hope. At one point near the end he had been certain they were lost and done for. Then once they gained the inn, he had been able to see that the troops were safely under shelter, if only in the crowded dormitories beneath the Travel Agency. Then there had been the letter from Baralai and Auron’s adventure with Yuna and the ubiquitous Tidus. He groaned again and decided to deal with those matters after he had found some breakfast and a cup of hot tea. There must be somebody maintaining a food station somewhere in this place.

He tossed aside the thick pile of coverings and levered himself up from the bed, shivering convulsively as the merciless cold air struck his bare flesh. He wondered if he would ever be completely warm again. The metal of the machina limbs carried the icy temperature through the attachments which held them in place directly to the core of his body. There must be some way to insulate his torso from those rods of freezing metal. Paine had tried to drive away the chill by … where was Paine?

He turned back to the bed, picking up the quilts and tossing them one at a time to the floor, searching for her until he realized how stupid he looked. She would not be hiding under the covers just to tease him. Rummaging through the heap of bedding at his feet, he managed to finally unearth his uniform and pull it on in spite of his trembling. Dealing with his tangled hair was beyond him; he would pay one of the Agency maids to comb and braid it later. Now to find Paine and see what was happening. From the angle of the light, he judged he had slept later than was his custom.

Nooj found his cane standing in the far corner and, with its aid, had reached the door when it opened and Paine strode in, clad in a fur-lined leather outfit he had not seen before and glowing with energy.

“So, you’re finally up. You were sleeping so well I didn’t have the heart to poke you when I left.” She grinned at him, ignoring his chattering teeth.

“Paine, how many more of those pills Baralai made do we have left?” She had insisted he be truthful with her and he was in no mood to dissemble.

She plunged her hand into the pouch swinging from her waist and drew out a palmful of gelatin capsules. “Fourteen more. Here.” She held out two of the shining pellets to him. “Take these. Right now. With luck, we’ll be seeing Baralai before long and if I remember him right, he’ll have made another supply just to keep his hand in.”

Nooj took the medications and swallowed them without waiting for something to wash them down. “Thanks. I must have slept crooked. I’m a little achy this morning.”

Paine kept her own counsel. She knew perfectly well that he was in grave pain if he admitted so much, even to her. She also knew the painkillers would ease him quickly and saw nothing to be gained by pressing him on the point. She would just continue to keep a close watch and make sure he did not start reverting to the habit of shielding her. Instead, she held the door open and then led the way to the main room where the others were eating and talking.

-X-

Ferata was hunched over a plate heaped high with food and shoveling it in as though he might never get a chance to eat again. Since there was no one seated at the other three places, Nooj and Paine joined him without ceremony. The Acting Quartermaster looked up at them from under his brows, seemingly about the snarl like a disturbed hound. When he recognized the pair across the table, he hastily rearranged his expression and half-stood in respect.

“Commander, Captain Paine, sorry … I keep trying … er, please sit down.”

“We have,” Paine answered with a grin. “And I’m not an officer, just a soldier. Everything all right?”

Ferata shook his head forlornly. “You’d think those monks lived like kings back at the temples. The way they kept coming upstairs and whining about the ordeal of having to sleep within ‘a hair’s breadth’ of ’snoring barbarians’. And the raw recruits complaining about the stink of the incense the monks spread with every move…the only ones who acted like real warriors were the Crusaders. They just slept and were glad to have a place for it. I looked down there and Crusaders were piled up like kindling and making the best of it while the others pushed and shoved and held their noses and ….” He broke off with a deep sigh and inhaled another knifeful of meat. “I was ready to shove them all out in the snow when they finally quieted down. Now, this morning, they don’t like the food here. It’s not what they’re used to. Are all holy men like this? Is it the holy or the man part that makes them so rotten?” Another huge bite and another long sigh punctuated the harangue. “I’m going back to counting supplies and let the ….”

Nooj, who had spent the intervening time warming his hand on the outside of his tea mug and his insides with its contents, interrupted. “I’ll give them a hiding this morning. This is an army, not a holiday camp. Pay them no attention, Ferata. You don’t have to be the goat for their complaints. You found them beds, indoors, that was enough.”

Ferata ducked his head down over his plate and scraped the last of his breakfast onto his fork and into his mouth. Scrambling up and wiping his face on his sleeve, he muttered, “Sorry, sir. I shouldn’t complain to you. I can handle it.” With a quick salute, he was off toward the sound of loud voices in the back room.

“That must have been a great night,” Paine spoke over her suppressed laughter.

“It’s not all that funny,” Nooj responded gravely. “People packed in close quarters do irritate each other but soldiers need to exercise more discipline. They need their rest to be able to do their jobs and these squabbles can be bad for morale. I’ll have to have a word with Kal and Squab and tell them to order their troops to settle down and quit being so edgy. Now, if you’re finished eating, let’s go find Sir Auron and get ready to move out to the Temple. … No, wait. First come back to the room with me.”

-X-

When he had closed the door behind them, Nooj drew his dagger from his belt and handed it to Paine. “Cut my hair.”

“What!” she exclaimed. “What are you talking about? Cut your hair? I thought that was some sort of tribal thing.”

“It is but it’s not worth bothering with. Just the ankle length part. Cut if off about waist level; that’s how long the rest of it — the braided part — is.”

“But why?”

“It’s too much trouble and it’s making my head hurt. I don’t have the time to mess with it anymore. Cut it or I’ll have to call Aquelev to do it … or do it myself.” He snarled half-heartedly.

Paine shrugged. “OK, but I’ll use my own knife. Yours isn’t sharp enough to be safe.” She drew her weapon and wrapping the long oiled mane around her hand, sawed away until the end fell to the floor like a beheaded snake. “Feel better?”

He tossed his head, relishing the new lightness and freedom. “Much. Now let’s go find Sir Auron.”

-X-

In vivid contrast to the day before, the morning was sunny with no sign of the heavy clouds which had produced the blizzard of just yesterday. Sun presented an entirely new set of problems to those navigating across a snowy landscape. The brilliant glare dazzled the eyes, making it difficult to move without stumbling. Although the warmth of the sun on the backs and shoulders of the soldiers was welcomed, the blinding reflections were not. Nooj beckoned to Ferata and ordered him to distribute soot so that the troops could apply it high on their cheekbones and mitigate the light bouncing into their eyes. While that was being done, he continued his search for Auron.

The Guardian was found in the innermost room of the Travel Agency conferring with Kal and Squab. Nooj greeted them with relief. “The army is ready to march on the Temple. Are we still decided as to the order of our approach?”

The three officers looked up, Auron the first to notice the shorter hair on the young commander. He raised an eyebrow and screened an approving smile behind his high collar. “Yes, I think we settled it well enough last night. The four of us and Beclem will be in the lead party and call for a colloquy with the head monk- Julien, is it? We’ll see what he has to say and proceed from there. I just hope he’s sensible.”

“So do I.” Nooj nodded, still unaccustomed to the lack of weight pulling at his head. “Kal, and Squab, I will be grateful if you will caution your troops against interservice quarreling. Remind them they are brothers and sisters and must behave accordingly. When you have done that, please form them up into columns ready to move out.”

He opened the door to the outside and held it for Paine to pass through.

“You didn’t assign me a place. Where do you want me?” she asked flatly.

He looked at her in surprise. “With me, of course. Or, would you rather stay with Auron? This is just preliminary sparring and is usually pretty dull. Hey, Ferata! Over here!”

When the Quartermaster presented himself with a sharp salute as though to make up for his unprofessional behaviour at breakfast, Nooj instructed him. “Make sure everybody has what they need. We’re ready to march out. Oh, and you stay toward the rear to keep track of any stragglers.”

-X-

The journey to the Macalania Temple was a short one but fraught with difficulty. The marching forces were compelled to wend their way along the narrow path at the edge of the cliffs which sometimes forced them to go single file and often exposed them to the possible attacks of any sniper which might lurk to pick them off as they trudged silhouetted against the sky and blinded by the brilliant sun. Feet had to be planted carefully lest a soft spot in the snow send a whole section tumbling into the crevasses waiting for the unwary. The necessity for constant alertness had exhausted them by the time half the distance had been covered and the sight of a slightly wider, sheltered section offered a welcome chance for a break.

“Tell the army to stop and rest for one hour.” Nooj commanded his lieutenants. “They will need to eat something and close their eyes until they are ordered to continue. We can’t light fires here, so order them to stay in the sun for warmth.”

Paine tugged at his arm. “And will you rest, too?”

“I need to check in with Sir Auron and the other leaders, then we’ll see.” He absently patted her hand. “Go sit down yourself.”

“I’ll go with you. I’ll just hang on to you and walk with my eyes closed.” She smiled and demonstrated her intention.

The other chiefs were easily found. They had positioned themselves as a group at the fore in order to be ready to treat with the defenders of the Temple as soon as they came to the gates.

“Do you expect Seymour to show up immediately?” Nooj asked Auron without preamble.

“I doubt it. Remember, he doesn’t know we’re aware he’s there. I think he’ll hold back and try to catch us off guard. Of course, it all depends on what the warrior monks have to say.”

Paine broke in. “I can’t help wondering if they might not have other surprises in store. I’ve heard Seymour is a twister.”

Beclem snorted, “He’s more twisted than a twister. No, Sir Auron is right, Seymour’s the kind who tries to come up behind you and pat you on the back with a dagger.”

“I’m prepared for whatever happens.” Auron spoke slowly and thoughtfully. “One thing life has taught me is to never underestimate either your friends or your enemies. Now, let’s take advantage of this time out and recharge our energies.”

-X-

The high walls of the Macalania Temple emerged suddenly, like a flourish of trumpets, from the glare of the way ahead. One moment there was a vague shape like a mirage glimmering lightly on the white, the next the darkness of the stone sprang out, solidly occupying the space beyond the clearing.

Nooj held up his hand and called his subordinates to him. “Keep your men back from the area just in front of the doors. We don’t want to look like we’re here to pick a fight. At least a hundred yards back. Arms visible but not drawn. Spread the men so they look as numerous as possible. You, Squab and Beclem, join me and the others as we planned last night. Keep your mouths shut and let Kal do the talking. Remember it will be best if we can gain their cooperation and not have to fight. Take care that no idiot under your command decides to snap off a shot or throw something at the temple. Too many unnecessary battles have been started by fools just being their natural selves. I hold each of you responsible of the actions of those you lead. And I hold myself responsible for your behavior. Don’t shame me.”

The heavy door to the temple opened as Nooj spoke these last words, and three men stepped out. Auron immediately recognized the leader as Julien, even though a good twelve years had passed since their last meeting. The two lieutenants who flanked him were both strangers, their expressions well hidden beneath helms and heavy orange coats. Julien’s face, however, was clearly visible — he had eschewed a helmet, despite the cold and the risk.

“Bold move,” Auron said to Nooj in hushed tones, “sending out such a small group so lightly armed. They must have guessed that we will want to start with negotiations.”

“Yes,” Nooj agreed under his breath. “But I am also certain that at least a full squadron of warrior monks waits just behind that door.”

Auron nodded, then looked back at Julien as he stopped past the temple entrance, firmly planting his feet and scowling, although he did not draw his weapon. He was nearly as tall as Nooj and much broader, so he made an imposing figure. “Who dares invade the sacred space of Macalania Temple?” he barked.

As they had agreed in the previous night’s council, Kal stepped forward, Squab and Beclem as his seconds, and Nooj joined them, staying a step back. Despite his bad blood with Julien, Kal was the senior representative of the former Yevonite force and so it was thought his words would carry the most weight — if not with Julien himself, then with the other warrior monks. Auron and Kimahri stood sentry further up the hill, Paine tall and impassive at her uncle’s side, Yuna and her other guardians visible behind them. The remainder of the army made themselves present in the distance, stamping and blowing with the cold but clearly ready to fight if necessary.

“Julien.” Kal bowed to him, then raised up and looked him in the eye. “We don’t wish to fight, only to talk.”

“That’s not what the reports I hear say,” Julien snapped back, brown eyes bright and belligerent. “So you haven’t taken up arms against Yevon, betraying the Order and all it stands for, and you’re not trying to topple the Maesters and take Spira for yourselves? Right.” He snorted. “Tell that to the monks you killed at Operation Mi’ihen.”

A brief look of helpless frustration passed across Kal’s face. Before he could answer, Beclem interrupted calmly. “Commander Kal was not a part of that battle, but I was. We regret its necessity, but the simple fact is that Maester Kinoc ordered the first attack. The Crusaders were only defending ourselves. We regret the necessity, and we are hoping to avoid more bloodshed. A worthy goal, surely?”

Julien glanced at Beclem with a grunt. “We’ll see,” he said, then turned back to Kal. “Go ahead. Present your terms.”

His equilibrium regained, Kal outlined the same request that Auron had made of him back at Djose Temple: free passage for Yuna to gain the aeon, non-interference from the warrior monks stationed here, and permission to leave a small squadron behind to guard the rebel army’s back. Auron watched all the monks closely and saw no softening as Kal spoke, no response whatsoever, their faces made of iron and stone. The decision had been made before Julien had even stepped out the door; there would be no bargains struck here today.

As soon as Kal finished, Julien shook his head. “No deal,” he said. “Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. You want the temple? Come and take it. Or you’re welcome to try, anyway.” With a quick nod to his seconds, he turned to leave.

“Julien!” Before the warrior monk could take a step, Nooj stepped forward from his place behind Squab, suddenly very physically present and very imposing. “I do not know by what title you style yourself but you are no true Warrior. No general with any sense or understanding of what warfare involves puts his troops into a battle unnecessarily. Only a man more driven by concern for his own ego than with the well-being of those who follow him is so stupidly reckless. Are you really choosing to send your men to death rather than take the wiser course and negotiate? If this is true, you are not fit to stand at the head of brave men and are worthy of only the most shameful of deaths.” Nooj spat at the feet of the monk and, turning his back on the spluttering man, walked off, his gait something between a swagger and a lurch.

For a split second, no one else moved, or even spoke. The warrior monk to Julien’s left gaped at Nooj while the other shifted uncomfortably and the commander pursed his lips so tightly that they nearly disappeared into a white line. Then he spun around and stomped off without a word, boots crunching loudly in the snow as his lieutenants followed.

Once they were gone, Kal slumped in a combination of disappointment and relief, then looked back at Auron with a shrug.

Auron glanced up at Kimahri. “So. That went well,” he said, his tone neutral and yet also mocking. Kimahri silently shook his head, and Auron chuckled before looking down at Paine. “Are you surprised?”

His niece returned his gaze with a wry twist of her mouth. “Well, yes. I didn’t expect them to act so much like … they did. I think we should have kept Lucil and done away with one or more of the men. Who taught those attack dogs to negotiate?”

Auron managed to force out a short, unamused laugh. “They’re all warriors, not diplomats. No one really expected this to work, not given who the leader is, and who is in the Temple with him. Seymour must be behind this rejection, with Julien acting as little more than his puppet. But we had to try. Here, it looks like Nooj is getting ready to issue his orders to the army. Let’s go see what he plans to do now.”

Nooj looked into the faces of his lieutenants and saw only resolve. It would have been good had they been able to persuade the monks of the Macalania Temple to remain neutral and permit Yuna the opportunity to face the ordeal and acquire the aeon, but since that was not to be, they were resigned to doing whatever was required to complete the task.

“We have two facts to face,” he began his briefing. “The warrior monks are barricaded inside the temple in an eminently defensible position along the path to the fayth’s chamber. We have no hope of prying them out of that position, not with four times our numbers. So we have to wait until they either realize their defiance is fruitless or we can devise some other way to lure them into open battle. That brings us to our second fact: there is only one way into the temple and it is easily cut. If we station our forces atop the cliffs overlooking the causeway, we can prevent help or supplies from reaching the defenders and can, eventually, starve them out. They will soon think of this and I do not believe they will choose to die in that way. Therefore the siege should not be a long one. I propose to keep our entire army in place for at least one day. We should display ourselves in such a way to convince them we are greater in number than we in fact are. After that, I shall ask you to divide your troops into three groups with one of the three rotating back to the Travel Agency each day in order to rest and replenish supplies for the army as a whole. That way, we can easily keep our choke-hold on the entrance as long as is needed.” He examined each face and saw no disagreement. “Well, that’s the plan. Make sure your people keep their arms in good condition and don’t get too bored. Limit the beer ration just to be sure they take their duties seriously.” He permitted himself a small smile and was glad to see it reflected back from the others. “Dismissed.”

-X-

Julien strode into the temple, scowling. He had neither expected nor particularly wanted the negotiations with the rebels to go well, but he was still irritated at being made to look weak in front of his men. First by that arrogant ass Kal, and then by that crippled boy who was playing at being a general. If anyone should be a general… With a hissing sigh, he cleared the thought and steeled himself for the unpleasant task of facing the Maester with his news. Seymour had taken a position a few steps up the stairway, and Julien bowed deeply, then dropped to one knee. “Your grace,” he muttered.

“Rise, please.” Seymour lifted a hand in a gesture of conciliation and blessing. Julien stood, glancing around the room at the priests and Guado mages who served as Seymour’s personal advisors. “So, it seems that Sir Auron’s little rebellion has landed on our doorstep at last.”

“I’m afraid so, my lord,” Julien replied.

“Please, a status report, if you will.” The Maester spoke in his usual calm tone, but Julien caught an undercurrent of danger there as well. Seymour was not pleased with this turn of events, and it would be unwise to anger him further.

“We met with the leaders of the resistance.” The warrior monk kept his tone even, slightly regretful, but firm. “They made a half-hearted attempt to negotiate, but I think everyone knew that was doomed to failure. They asked for free access to the Cloister of Trials for the traitor summoner and requested that we not interfere with their upcoming battles with Bevelle.”

“As I expected.” Seymour nodded. “I assume you refused?”

“Damn right we refused!” Julien remembered with whom he was speaking, took a deep breath, and started again. “As per your instructions, of course.”

“Tell me more.” As always, it was a command rather than a request.

“Not much more to tell, your grace. Like you said, it was basically what you expected. They made their ludicrous offer, I turned them down. And then that boy had the nerve to lecture me about honor!” Julien clenched his jaw, both in reaction to the memory and to prevent another outburst like that from slipping out.

Seymour raised an eyebrow, and actually smiled. “Temper, temper,” he said, clucking his tongue. “I assume you are referring to their commander? He is youthful, to be certain, but reports suggest that he is battle seasoned and well-respected by Crusader Command. You would do well not to underestimate him.”

Julien ground his teeth silently. This priest thought he could tell him how to do his job? But he swallowed another angry comment. “Of course, Lord Seymour. I will not forget that.”

“Good. So. What do you think happens next?”

“A siege,” Julien replied promptly. “This temple is easy to defend, but that’s both a blessing and a curse. In theory, they could pin us here indefinitely. But I think we can wait them out — we have supplies for almost two weeks, and Bevelle will be here long before that.”

“Hm.” Seymour turned to his closest advisor and near-constant companion since they had both arrived from Bevelle several days ago. “What do you think?”

The young priest, who despite his white hair appeared to be barely into adulthood, cleared his throat and stepped forward with a bow. “If I know Nooj, he has split his forces and sent at least some of them to guard Bevelle. Perhaps even the bulk of them. Since the Crusader generals have been so uncooperative, Bevelle has only enough warrior monks to guard its own walls. We can count on no help from that quarter. I am sorry to say it, Commander,” and here he turned to Julien, bowing again, “but Macalania is on its own.”

Julien shrugged. “Fine. We’ve managed against tough odds before.”

“Indeed.” Seymour nodded to the priest. “So, we may have to break the siege ourselves. Baralai, have you any suggestions?”

“We wait,” said the Yevonite. “Nooj is impatient and impulsive, with little taste for diplomacy, no matter what he may have said in negotiations. Honor and pride are his weaknesses. Find a way to attack either, and he may crack. That army is nothing without Nooj — break him and the resistance will crumble. If we wait a few days, give him time to get restless, call him out and he should succumb.”

“Interesting.” Seymour tapped his long fingers together. “We shall think on this and discuss more details later. But one thing is certain: there will be no fighting today. Commander.” He turned around in a swirl of robes and headed into his private chamber, Baralai and the others from Bevelle at his heels.

After the Maester had disappeared from sight, Julian turned o his second and grunted. “Priests! They’ll have us all die of starvation while they scheme. Give me a sword and five minutes with Kal, I’ll show them how to break a siege.”

“Yessir, couldn’t agree more,” the subcommander said. “But I guess we have to play it their way for now.”

“For now.” Julien turned away from the staircase. “All right, let’s find some food while there’s still something fresh enough to be worth eating.”

-X-

Late that night, Baralai lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He could not stop thinking about the army massed outside, the defenders waiting within, and his plans for them both. Everything he had done these past weeks had led him to this moment. Now, within days or even hours, he would know what fruits his labors might bear.

It had been simplicity itself to get to Guadosalam and meet with Seymour, then take him up on the offer the Maester had made during the Crimson Squad training — an alliance, against the rebel elements of the Crusaders and against Kinoc. It had not really come as a surprise that a split had been brewing in Yevon even before recent events. Seymour looked at this rebellion as an opportunity to take charge of the order, for purposes that he had not made entirely clear. Blinded by his ambition, he had been only too happy to accept Baralai’s change of heart at face value, to use the former priest’s information about the rebel army to his advantage, and to whisk Baralai to Bevelle. There, Baralai had mixed just enough truth with the half-truths and outright lies to gain Yevon’s confidence and a position as one of Seymour’s most respected advisors. If anyone was suspicious of his fast rise, they had kept it to themselves.

Meanwhile, he had quietly gathered intelligence of his own. That had been easy enough; more difficult had been getting that information to Nooj. It had been nearly impossible to find couriers he trusted enough to deliver his messages to the Travel Agencies, and even harder to write notes that would betray nothing to the casual reader, and everything to their intended audience. Now he could only hope that Paine had been able to decipher them. Assuming she was still in a position to–

He turned over on his side, exhaling sharply. No point in worrying about that. He held it as an article of faith that his friends were all alive and safe. Any other thought was intolerable. Better to worry about the things he could control. His allies were all in place, or so he prayed. He had intended to sow seeds of discord in Bevelle, but he had found that entirely unnecessary — the saplings had already taken root, and it look very little effort to water and nurture them. Yevon had been on the verge of imploding for a long time. This rebellion was only hastening the process.

Baralai sighed and rolled onto his other side. Nooj and Paine had most of the information they needed, but there were a few key pieces he had held back — his own presence here, for one, and the placement of a key ally. He trusted his friends, but you cannot betray what you do not know, and he wanted to keep this plan hidden until the very last second. Too much depended on its perfect execution. The leaders would be smart enough to see what was happening and play along.

He hoped.

With that thought, Baralai pulled the blankets up to his chin and finally fell into a restless sleep.

—

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