3. Broken Bones (1/2)

auron could already see this summoner was going to require more prodding than the last. isaaru insisted on a full sending ritual six days late, and the pilgrimage hadn't even started.

the sea-

eeze buffeting the headland had faded. the air felt pinched and still, as if sin's passing had peeled away part of the atmosphere. in the village square, smoke-trails spiralled upwards in straight columns. the torches' blue flames barely flickered. in ones and twos, drifting pyreflies chased the smoke like furtive children stealing out after curfew to play in the fiend-haunted jungle.

below, guardians and monks kept vigil while isaaru circled the graves, his solemn gestures a restrained echo of lady yuna's whirling dance. maroda watched intently, but for less than pious reasons: he had noticed his

other's knit

ows and taut face. the summoner was waging an inner battle far from his guardians' aid. at last, isaaru staggered and halted. maroda hurried towards him.

the maester waved him off. "it is done. they are free." he nodded to the monks, who bowed and fanned out to clear away the trappings of ritual.

"leave the torches," auron called from the temple platform, keeping watch. "we'll need them tonight."

"what?" pacce said. "but if we hurry, we can reach the beach by sunset!"

maroda raised his eyes to the sun setting beyond the jungle. "if we hurry, we could run straight into the jaws of fiends," he said. "sir auron's right. we don't want to get caught in the forest after nightfall. don't worry. the ship's not going to leave without us."

"i'm sorry, pacce," said isaaru. "i've put us in some peril in order to perform a proper sending. but i have faith in my guardians." he winked. "it's like old times together, no?"

pacce managed a strained grin. "yeah. i suppose."

"come on," maroda said. "there's cots and mats in the crusader lodge we might be able to salvage. we can spread them out by the campfire."

"out in the open where nothing can sneak up on us. right."

isaaru sank onto the temple's

oken steps, observing the give and take between his

others that was almost on equal footing now. it would have to be. their last pilgrimage had been sheer folly: pacce had been a child, maroda a hotheaded young man with more guts than training. isaaru, too, had been green and naive. yuna's sacrifice had saved them from a futile end. he closed his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks to the high summoner.

"a hard sending," auron said at his shoulder.

"indeed. the only spirits clinging to their bodies after so many days are those who don't want to leave, and they are bitter, stubborn or in pain. but we were in time for a few."

"maester thirteen years, yet you still think like a priest," auron said. "all spira needs you. you may not have the luxury of saving a few."

"perhaps not." he reached for the bone pendant under the stiff collar of his robes. "but i think high summoner yuna would have done the same."

"yuna made mistakes."

"as have i," isaaru said. "i trust, sir auron, you will share with us what you know of the journey ahead, so that i may avoid other mistakes."

"you're awfully quick to trust."

"yes and no." the maester gave him an odd smile. "i wonder, sir auron, if you are still a traitor to yevon. if so, i should like to know what you make of this." he drew the necklace over his head and cupped it in his hands, shielding it from the view of the monks neaby.

auron arched an eye

ow. "an odd talisman for a maester of yevon."

"it belonged to a sailor on the ship that

ought us here. i believe he carved it from memory. he had encountered sin at sea. do you recognize the image?"

"may i see it?" auron always sounded gruff, but there was a strain in his tone that isaaru noted and filed away. he placed the delicate triangle of bone in the man's gloved hand, watching him closely.

after a moment, the guardian shrugged. "another of sin's victims, no doubt."

"you think so?" isaaru lowered his voice. pacce and maroda had returned, and were arranging cots and mats in a semicircle nearby. "there are those who call sin the lady, and hold her in greater awe than yevon. sin's cult is growing. they thank her for the good harvests of these last few years, for the gardens of djose and the rains on bikanel. those who

eathe sin's toxin see this face and say she is sin. they maintain that sin is a woman, a siren of deadly beauty. yet according to other sightings, sin appears the same as ever, a terrifying behemoth covered in loathsome scales. who is she?"

"sin." auron's fingers closed around the image, forming a cage.

isaaru waited for the man to go on, but the stones of the temple would probably speak sooner. the warrior's attention seemed fixed on the simple token.

"ah." the maester leaned forward. "then who was she?"

auron raised his head and looked towards the jungle on the far side of the village. for a moment isaaru thought the guardian was still ignoring him. then he felt the earth shudder. before isaaru could frame a question, the pulse crossed hearing's threshold. from the heart of the forest came a splintering sound of trees groaning and

eaking. something massive was churning through storm-tossed trunks. there was a sliding crash as a whole bank of

oken treetops, upheld only by a snarl of limbs and thick vines, gave way at the crest of the hill. the jungle canopy tossed and thrashed in the path of something unseen. limbs and leaves began raining down from the eaves.