FicWad

This is the last of the series detailing the youth of Nooj. The next story will take him into the Crusader Corps. From now on, his actions and words will be those of a man. One grows up rapidly on Spira.

Part Four

The battlefield was a confused kaleidoscope of swirling figures, weaving tentacles, glittering blades, flashing teeth under a sky in which the ominous clouds were formed not of water droplets but of the spray of blood and smoke of burning flesh. The coppery reek of gore mixed with the stench of voided bowels to create a nearly unbreathable miasma and the footing underneath was boggy with spilled bodily fluids.

Nooj, his muscles screaming with exhaustion, fought on. His two-handed sword swung like a mechanical blade as he stood on a small plateau in the midst of the melee. He did not notice when a fire spell ran down his left arm and took the flesh leaving only a bare humerus and stringy charred tendons. His eyes fogged by the acrid drifting haze, he continued to slice through a clot of fiends which showed no signs of dissolving. It was only when the sword fell from his nerveless fingers that he drew his dagger and began calmly carving patterns into the shapes which came within his reach.

A sharp thong wrapped around his left leg just above the knee, severing the leg and felling him to the ground but he was undeterred. The head of the grotesque animal he saw in front of him became the face of a grimacing man. With exactitude and precision, he scalloped eyelids and lips, drawing strength from the cries of those he tormented unto death. He smiled as he slowly killed and slowly died.

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With a sharp, quick cry, Nooj started upright in his bed, flailing out at the touch which had awakened him.

"It's all right. You were talking and cursing in your sleep." Kaith caught his wrist before he could hit her. "I was on my way from the toilet and heard you."

He swayed his head from side to side in a confused effort to make sense of her words. "I was talking?" At the same time, he freed his hand from her grasp and checked his left side. "I was dreaming. Second time I've had that dream."

"What was it about?" She stroked the damp hair off his brow and spoke softly, so as not to disturb the other cadets asleep in the large room outside his door.

"Nothing important, just a bad dream. They don't come often ..." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and groped for his sleeping shirt which he rarely wore now that he had privacy in the night. "Come with me."

"Where? Oh!" She exclaimed as his touch made clear what his intentions were. "To our cove?"

"Yes. Are you willing?"

"I told you there was no need to ask." Kaith took his hand and wound her fingers with his. Together, they slipped out the two doors between them and the open air.

Nooj breathed deeply as the horror of the dream began to pass away. He had lied to her. The dreams were becoming more frequent with details added constantly. Tonight was the first time he had watched himself kill with deliberate slowness and sadistic intent. He felt as though a barrier had fallen. He had grown accustomed to seeing himself mutilated and dying whilst honorably slaying the foe but this ... This was beyond his levels of acceptance. That might be why he had cried out in his sleep loudly enough to be heard by Kaith. When they had passed through the dormitory, no one else seemed awake but he must try to forestall this happening again. It would not do for the Senior Cadet Captain to be heard wailing like an infant because of a bad dream. There many thoughts he must consider but first he would heal his damaged soul in the soothing arms of Kaith and try to find some form of peace. This year was proving to be more difficult than he had expected.

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Jounne was awake late. There were things on his mind as this year approached its close. He would be profoundly relieved when he was rid of the constant burr Nooj had become. Had he it to do over, he would have sent the boy to the regular Army boot camp early the first year. By now, he would almost certainly have been dead and no longer a question mark for his instructors. The Commandant knew he had been heavily influenced by the need for gifted Warriors to hold Sin at bay until a Summoner was readied to make the Pilgrimage and bring about a new Calm. This incarnation of Sin had been particularly destructive and the courageous, innovative leaders of all the branches of the forces had been decimated. New and exceptional officers were urgently required. This was one of the reasons the senior staff had been willing to try so hard to salvage Nooj. Now he would be commissioned in a matter of two months and would be the problem of the Crusaders. Jounne smiled grimly and thought they might want to rewrite certain portions of their Manual once they had gotten a taste of Nooj.

He opened his lowest desk drawer and pulled out the folder which held the pages he had removed from the library's copy of the Crusader Manual. They had come from the section entitled "Our Mission and its Meaning" and dealt with death. Jounne had long felt the Crusaders espoused a romantic and impractical attitude toward heroism and when he had learned Nooj was Deathseeker, the words in this part of the Manual had returned to his memory with a startling impact. 'Death is an expected and desirable part of the life of a Warrior. We seek Death in the heat of battle and embrace it like a lover when it comes to us. Crusaders, as the most Elite of Warriors, do not fear extinction for we know our names will live after us in the annals of the Corps.' This unambiguous statement was followed by another page and a half of stories extolling the honorable deaths of celebrated Crusaders in execrable prose dripping with adjectives. The Commandant thought it was the most irresponsible text that could have been written and could only imagine the effect such drivel would have on impressionable young people, especially one like Nooj who had already pledged himself to the nihilistic principle here expressed. So he had removed the pages, hoping to be able to sway the lad from his convictions before he graduated. Now Jounne sighed in frustration. He might as well have left the Manual intact. Once again, he had misunderstood the inflexible will of his student. It was beyond stubbornness and demonstrated a resistance to persuasion which would have been laudable had it not served such a deplorable purpose.

Well, it was too late now. Jounne had observed with some dismay that Nooj had become steadily more distant and unreachable as the year passed. Only Nepetu remained as a token of his brief flowering in the world of social contact. The Commandant did not dare comment on the coeurl any longer for fear that would cause the young man to sever this final tie. A fine thing indeed when a superior officer was hesitant to correct a junior because the latter might interpret the criticism too exactly. Yes, he would be glad to see the end of this year and the commissioning of this departing group. There were only thirteen left, not a bad result after all the winnowing they had experienced, and each of them would be a credit to the service he chose. Even Nooj ... or especially Nooj?

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The plan was clear and simple. Nooj proposed to lead the other twelve members of the graduating class to the north of the Calm Lands, down the steep pathway, toward the right on the lower level and into the narrow gap of a cave along the trail. There they would attempt to cleanse the area of indigenous fiends and recover the bones and weapons of the small contingent of Crusaders which had preceded them. It should be well within the capacity of a group of this size and prove the skill and courage of those who were to be commissioned within six weeks time. There was only one thing wrong with it.

"No, you cannot personally lead the team. You are the overall commander of the group and must stay behind the lines in order to deal with any emergencies or unforeseen eventualities. Your adjutant will lead. She is up to it, isn't she?" Jounne would brook no disagreement.

"Certainly, she is capable, but ..."

"There are no exceptions. You are in the position of the commander and ultimate authority and, as such, cannot be considered for an active role at the beginning. You have studied strategy; surely you know this?"

Nooj glared at his superior. "Yessir. I've read the manuals but since this is the final exercise, I thought ..."

"You were wrong. You will stay outside the field of exploration and be prepared to respond and command as the situation changes. Just like you have done in the other two training exercises. This one is no different. Relax, lad, you'll get your belly full of action in a couple of months." Jounne laughed indulgently as he waved his student out of the room.

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The tall slit of an opening looked like the eye of an ominous needle to Nooj as he concentrated on the empty area around the cave. Far behind him he could hear the distant shouts and clashing of swords as a few Crusaders participated in mock battles preparatory to setting out for their own struggles against Sin. He was alone in this place, except for Nepetu who paced alongside him, equally uneasy in his gait.

When he moved closer to the gap, he could hear a confused medley of sounds emerging but nothing which gave him any clue as to how his troops were faring in the mission he had set them. Kaith was the leader inside. She was skilled and more than competent for the task - however she was inexperienced in such a position and he wished it were he giving the orders. It had been almost two hours. In all honesty he knew he had a long time yet to wait; the knowledge did not make the waiting easier.

Time passed and he spotted Jounne, Marant and Dvala coming down the path to grade the students who must shortly be emerging. He saluted the members of the senior staff and turned his attention once more to the exit from the arena. He could just make out indistinct figures moving within the dimness. They were returning. Yaamone, the strongest of the group was carrying something. One of the team must have been injured.

He did not know how he was expected to react; he no longer had any instincts to cue him. The body had been laid before him, at his feet. Her face had not been touched but the chest was shattered. One breast had been torn away together with the heart and a great hole gaped where the ribs had been crushed and destroyed. The tell-tale signs of a thunder attack marked the edges of the bloodless wound; the blow that killed had also cauterized. The great cat, Nepetu approached the corpse and sniffed hesitantly before mewling and laying its head across what remained and snarling at any who came near.

Nooj could not force his mind to recognize her. With no life flickering behind her features, she was not the woman he had known. The whispers assaulting his ears carried no information he could process. When a hand touched his arm, he did not feel it and so did not respond.

How long he stayed frozen like that, he never knew, but - like a man caught in the calm center of a great upheaval - slowly he felt his senses began to return in a flawed and distorted form.

"Kaith." Did he say it or did he hear it from the lips of another? Then the turmoil broke about him, like a clash of drums beating and pipes wailing. She was dead and there was no mending of it. No Phoenix Down could rewind this thread. She was dead.

Still he did not know what he was expected to do, how they thought he should behave. Should he copy Nepetu? That did not seem quite right. He was a man, not a beast. None of his limbs were responsive even had his mind been capable of directing them. Nothing was working. Not his tongue, not his eyes. He could not close his lids not shape a sound. If he could have permitted himself the weakness, he would have escaped into darkness but that his pride denied him.

Then he was talking to Jounne in a place apart and Jounne was nodding and patting him on the back. Then another approached and nodded at his words. Various cadets, straggling by dispiritedly singly and in pairs, spoke to him and he nodded in his turn. He was walking and seemed to have a destination but he could not think or know where he was bound.

Nepetu had come to his call and stalked beside him, looking up at him with what in a higher animal would have been perceived as worry. Then they were alone on the plains of the Calm Lands, moving like a pair of automatons through the descending shadowy light/not light. And he could neither weep nor feel.

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Nooj had removed his shirt and his boots and stood there, clad only in his breeches, before the two men he had asked to meet with him in the Armory. The Head Trainer, Henta, loomed in the dim light, his arms crossed, the usual scowl on his heavy features. Commandant Jounne looked quizzically at the cadet. "We are here, lad. What is the problem?"

The young man handed the five thonged whip to Henta before turning to face his superior. "I want you to witness, sir, while Henta punishes me for my criminal carelessness today." He began to unbutton his breeches.

"You are not in line for punishment. You laid out a training exercise and saw it carried through. Deaths happen in the course of learning to be a Warrior; we have talked about this before. You didn't do anything wrong." Jounne reached to touch the other's shoulder.

"I lost a life due to my poor planning. This is twice I have done that. I know what I deserve." He stepped out of his clothing and stretched himself across the flogging horse. "You don't need to strap my wrists. I won't move." He had grown so tall, his hands almost reached the floor on the far side of the framework. "I suggest at least fifteen lashes but the final count is up to you."

"Don't be a fool, Nooj. I am not going to have you thrashed for an accident. Don't you think I know how you feel?"

"How I feel? Don't you understand? I can't feel and I've got to!" The words came spurting out as if a pus-filled sac had been lanced. "If physical pain is all there is, that's what it's got to be. And don't try to let me off lightly. I've got to feel something!"

The two senior officers looked at the pale shivering form stretched over the device, consternation on their features. A reluctant grimace distorting his face, Jounne nodded to the Trainer. Henta drew back his arm.

When it was done and the bleeding back had been roughly cleansed, Nooj resumed his garments and saluted both officers. He swayed as he stood painfully at attention, his face like that of Death itself. But some of the terrible bleakness was gone and he seemed less like a string tightened and vibrating to the point of breaking.

"Thank you, sirs. May I be dismissed?"

"Yes. Go directly to your room and remain there until the morning." The Commandant could think of nothing else to do to protect the young man from the unwelcome commiseration of his peers. Looking into the youth's eyes, he understood all too well the reasons for the extraordinary actions and could no longer fault the choice. "Tomorrow, you will resume your duties and you will not discuss this with anyone."

The two older men watched as the younger made his way through the door into the quadrangle, the seeping blood making a pattern of stripes and blotches on his shirt like grotesque camouflage.

"Poor devil." Henta said with feeling. "He's having a bad time of it."

"It's by choice," Jounne replied almost absently. "He won't let himself take a easy route. I don't think he is going to last long in the Crusaders ... or anywhere else. We'll be putting his name on the Honor Roll fairly soon. ... Well, let's go. I have to be available if any of the others need to talk."

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Time passed, as is its indifferent habit, and Nooj continued to carry out his prescribed duties as Senior Cadet Captain. His behavior was impeccable which gained him even greater adulation from his fellow students. The hollowness inside him remained concealed and private while those around him wondered at his strength. He moved with grace and dignity through the performance of his role and did that which was required of him.

As the date for the awarding of commissions neared, he realized he must finish the final task, the one he had postponed for so long. With only one day to go, he set out toward the far north of the Calm Lands with Nepetu at his side. The sun was lowering in the sky when they reached the empty plains; Nooj began to run, the coeurl pacing him. They ran past the man's exhaustion limit, until he fell almost senseless to the ground where the pair huddled together sharing warmth and breath and fell asleep for a time under the veiled moons and the stars.

Upon awakening to a sky in which scuttling clouds presaged the approach of a system of turbulent weather, the two companions crossed the bridge which led across the lower level where Kaith had met her death. Nooj did not look down, keeping his vision fixed on the narrow defile which marked the entrance to the icy land of the Ronso, that race of humanoid felines which dwelt on the lower reaches of Mount Gagazet.

Nepetu was reluctant to pass the bridge but, loyal as always, followed his master's lead. Unlike the human, he could bear to remember the woman and her gentle ways. In his own manner, he recalled and grieved.

At the point where the path narrowed and the first light powdering of snow drifted gently across the browning grass, Nooj pointed to a niche protected from the whip of the wind and spoke his first word since leaving camp the night before. "Stay."

Nepetu lowered himself, stretching his legs out in front and waited for further orders only to see his human turn and begin to walk away. He growled and spat angrily. This was not right. The coeurl was confused. Never before had its master abandoned it. With a little mewing sound, it lowered its head to the forelimbs and let the proud whiskers droop until they became one with the dried grasses.

Nooj turned his back and stood immobile for a long moment, his fists clenched at his sides. This was his last tie to life, the last hostage fate would have from him. Had he been still emotionally intact, he would not have been able to do this. He was sufficiently aware of his condition to be briefly grateful he was still held in the peculiar paralysis which had afflicted him since he had seen her broken body at his feet. Without a glance back, he took first one step, then another until he was finally striding with great ground-devouring paces back toward the Camp.

The light was beginning to show behind the horizon and the day promised to be stormily overcast, a fit reflection of his mood. The ceremonies would have to be held inside. Were it not for the fact his absence would be remarked upon and might be considered the act of a coward, Nooj would have skipped the procedures and reported directly to the Crusaders' headquarters. However wishing to preserve what remained of the person he had been, he steeled himself to walk with a martial swagger into the Camp and towards the barracks. There was a sudden silence as he opened the door. The cadets, changing into their dress uniforms, paused and stared at the tall figure of their Captain. Nooj, as had become his habit, glanced toward the bunk where Kaith had slept. It was undisturbed, the single blanket drawn tightly over the padding. Something within him throbbed once then vanished, leaving a vacancy in its place. He felt a different awareness gathering there as though all his forces were marshaling themselves for a battle to come, for the long anticipated entrance into Nothingness. He went inside his room and closed the door behind him.