All That Glitters

 

AN:  We’re wrapping up this story here pretty soon.  Like so many I do, it wasn’t supposed to go on for so long.  But, that’s life.  I’m glad people enjoyed it, too!

 

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Tainted_Emerald: I’m glad you deemed it worth the wait!  Erol will indeed be much displeased.  Let’s see if I can make the ending satisfying enough to compliment the rest of the story!

 

GoodMorningBeautiful2005:  Thank you!

 

Jesa:  Glad you liked it :)

 

Kuromei:  You know Erol is creepy around Jak in general.  It was a small step to sexual stalker kind of creepy.  And Dax tiptoes ever closer to telling his pal the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  Glad you’re liking it!

 

Danielle:  Ah, how I wish the fun stories would never end.  But if they never ended, then new fun stories could never be begun!  I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it so much.

 

Dos:  Well, thank you very much!  I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it so much.  If there is ever fan art, I must of course see it so I can squee all over it!

 

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Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

 

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     Morning came all too soon.  Jak awoke with a start in the cold pre-dawn gloom to Daxter shaking his shoulder gently.

     “Come on, big guy.  Wakey-wakey.  Time fer us ta get movin’.”

     With a stretch and a quiet groan the prince sat up out of the sand and dust, blinking at the small, shifting silhouette against the opening of their shelter.  Daxter had changed over into an ottsel again during the night. He seemed to be getting quicker at the transformation.  “Morning, Dax.  Ready to head out?”

     “Ready as I’ll ever be, dashing off into peril without breakfast.”  Long, orange ears flitted upward as Jak got to his hands and knees, collected his sword and cloak, and began to crawl outside.  “But, uh, Jak?  Big guy?  If there’s somethin’ a little… weird goin’ on out there, promise ya won’t wig out on me, okay?” 

     “Weird like snow in the desert, or weird like raining frogs?” Jak asked over his shoulder, curious as to what his friend meant.  It would take more than a little oddness to spook the future ruler of a warrior nation.  “I don’t understand what you—”

     Then he got to his feet, looked out ahead across the sands, and did understand. 

     Even during the day, eco was eye catching.  It glittered, sparkled, and swirled, nearly brighter than the sunlight.  That being the case, the towering pillars of it ringing the city of Spargus and rising high into the cloudless desert sky eclipsed even the red sun about to rise over the dunes.  Jak felt his blood run cold.

     Though they were still far off, the spectacle was awesome.  Green, blue, red eco, and some that was even pale, almost whitish-blue rose up from the sand and over the walls as if a plethora of vents had opened of their own accord.  The pale blue commanded the most attention, seeming ethereal in the moments just before true daylight broke.  Jak had never seen light eco before, but he felt sure that he was seeing some now. 

     The prince’s mouth was bone dry, and not just for lack of water.  What could be happening to his home?  Was this somehow some doing of Erol’s?  It couldn’t possibly be… could it?  His father, Keira, Torn—were they alright, and would they stay that way until he could get back to them?

     “Jak!  Buddy, listen!”  There was a sharp tug at his pant leg and an even sharper sting in his upper thigh as little claws dug unintentionally in.  Daxter scrambled up to balance precariously on a piece of the prince’s shoulder armor, pawing anxiously at his friend.  “That’s fer protection, pal, protection!”  He got Jak by the chin, turning his head forcibly until they were nose to nose, startled blue eyes meeting calmer ones.  “Nothin’s gonna happen ta yer city, okay?  I swear.”

     To the best of his ability, Jak tried to compose himself.  Truth be told, he had forgotten for a moment that Daxter was still at his side.  But the fact that the other seemed to understand what was going on and was trying to reassure him allowed Jak to breathe a little easier.  “Alright.  I trust you. But—”

     A small, furry hand landed over his mouth.  “Save the questions fer now.  We have to get back there before we miss the party.  Plus, the pretty lights’ll look even nicer when I work my own special kind of pizazz on ‘em, don’t ya think?” 

     Jak could only nod somewhat dumbly and turn mechanically back toward Spargus.  Until he had all the pieces of this scattered puzzle, the only logical thing to do was what Daxter said.

 

- - - - -

 

     Running on sand was almost as natural for Jak as breathing.  He had trained that way for more years than he could recall.  The shifting grains under his boots, the hot rays against his back, the small orange being clinging to his shoulder helped to remind him that he was firmly anchored in reality as they came ever closer to the rear wall of the city.  Luckily the area was deserted, showing no sign of Erol’s forces or any hint that they might have been lurking nearby.

     The barrier of eco was even more amazing up close.  Jak craned his neck back for an astounded look upwards.  He couldn’t see where the glowing tendrils ended.  “Daxter, how are the different ecos not reacting with each other?  I’ve never seen them all together like this before.”

     “This is a special situation.  Eco can be controlled in definite patterns, with enough power.”  Daxter sounded almost nervous, but he directed Jak firmly forward with a little tug at the prince’s ear.  “There’re still gaps in this eco, see?  Wait fer it ta swirl just right, then walk through.  Don’t hafta sprint, but make sure we get on the other side pretty quick.”

     “Right.” 

     Despite himself, Jak couldn’t help the leap.  He stepped cautiously toward a forming opening in the wall of raw energy and felt a brush of blue eco against his bare arm.  There was nothing for it after that—he bolted through with the customary jolt of the eco of motion running cool through his veins.  Daxter yelped as he slipped off the metal shoulder plate and hung by it, legs and tail flailing for purchase in the crisp morning air as the eco shifted seamlessly shut behind them.

     “Jeez, Jak, watch it!”

     “Sorry!”  The green-blonde grabbed his friend gently around the middle.  He was lowering the ruffled ottsel gently to the sand near the brick wall when a shout from above hailed him, and he looked upward quickly.

      “Your Highness!” 

     Instant relief assailed the prince as he beheld the flash of armor and the glimpse of a tanned face that looked as happy to see him as he was to be seen by friendly eyes.  A Spargian guard.  “Yes!” he shouted.  “As far as I know we’re not being followed.  Let us in, quick!”

     There was an immediate scramble up above.  “Someone get down there and open the back gate—Prince Jak has returned!  Move it, move it!”

     Daxter, who had half hidden himself between Jak’s feet out of reflex, peered up at the suddenly empty parapet.  “Well, that was easy.  Guess I’d better get my groove on before they get down here, huh?”

     Before Jak could ask what he was talking about, Daxter was springing into action.  The ottsel scampered back to within arm’s reach of the eco wall, which twisted and shifted before him.  Small tendrils of the stuff drifted free of the main mass and swirled forward, as if reacting to Daxter’s nearness.  Dax didn’t bat an eye, however.  He merely sat back on his haunches, tail curled primly around his hind feet, and reached forward with one hand to meet the energy.

     Jak watched intently as the ends of the ottsel’s fur began to shimmer and glow a bright yellow.  It was strikingly beautiful against the pumpkin orange that covered most of his body, and made the yellow of his chest and underside glow like molten gold.  Jak actually gasped, albeit softly, when Daxter’s paws left the ground.  He knew it could happen when especially talented people worked with—channeled—enough eco, this momentary levitation, but with Daxter actually creating the stuff out of thin air, who knew how much power was flowing through that little furry body just then?

     Slowly the cloud of yellow eco that had formed around the ottsel began to travel down to his spread palm and unravel from there, working its way steadily into the moving tapestry of color that was already enveloping the city.  Yellow seeped into the formerly empty spaces, and in less than a minute the barrier was complete.  Daxter touched the ground again gently, foot paws settling back into the sand with minimal fuss as the glow left his fur and he became once again an ordinary creature.

     “Daxter, wow!  That was incredible.  I—” 

     Jak had barely taken a step toward his friend before the ottsel staggered, stumbled, and collapsed onto his side with a puff of dust. 

     “Dax!”  Jak bolted over and dropped to his knees, gathering Daxter into his arms.  He was completely limp in the prince’s grasp, breathing shallow.  “Dax, come on, please!  Wake up!”  All Jak could do was shake his friend gently, pet his now sandy fur, and hope to gods that Daxter hadn’t made a huge mistake by using so much energy in one go.  He was just a young ottsel, after all, and didn’t seem to have had much practice at manipulating eco on a large scale, if any at all.  That he had been doing so simply to protect Jak’s home from an invading army bent on mass destruction made the prince feel responsible.

     The creak of an iron gate opening brought Jak out of his blooming panic.  He turned to see two guards rush out with weapons drawn.  They hovered uncertainly just outside the gate, watching the eco barrier warily.  One stepped forward while the other covered the entrance.  “Your Highness, quickly, come inside.  Something is happening in the throne room, between your father and Praxis’ general.”

     That got Jak to his feet.  He hugged Daxter protectively to his chest, reassured by the little grumble that the unconscious ottsel gave as he was lifted.  Now all he had to do was not put Dax down until he was safely rested up again.  “Erol is here?  How did he get past the eco?”

     “He and an attendant were escorted in at dawn, before this—” the soldier gestured almost helplessly at the flowing eco wall, obviously at a loss, “—happened.  They claimed they were holding you hostage, Your Highness, and last night you were captured, so it was assumed...  In any case, I’m relieved to see it’s not true.”

     Jak smirked.  “Well then, I better get in there before my dad does something stupid to save my ass when it doesn’t need to be saved.  Let’s get moving!”

     “Yes, sir!”  The guard, who had been staring at the limp orange creature in his prince’s arms, snapped to attention.  “There are leapers waiting.  We’ll have you at the palace in—”

     But Jak was already through the gate and running.

 

- // - // - // - // -

 

     The silence of the throne room caught Jak off guard.  He slowly made his way toward it from a side passage flanked by draping wall hangings, ears tipped warily forward, making as little sound as possible with his clunky boots.  Where were the harsh voices raised in debate?  Of all the scenarios he had imagined facing on the way to the palace, a lack of confrontation hadn’t been one of them.

     Sunlight drifted in from the high, arched windows, but as Jak moved slowly down the passage toward the large room at its end he realized that there was more to the brightness of it than met the eye.  A brighter glow that reminded him of the light eco from outside shone through the entryway at the end of the passage.  He gave Daxter a little squeeze and swallowed nervously, wishing the ottsel were aware.  Dax hadn’t woken up on the way from the perimeter wall.  Jak sighed softly, then straightened his back and ears before stepping out into the throne room.

     “Ah, there they are.  Right on time.”

     At first Jak thought that the kind, fatherly voice was actually stemming from the glowing beings standing tall near the back of the throne room, and it stopped him, frozen, in his tracks.  The figures had no clothing, no visible faces.  They stood unmoving, as if waiting for some kind of signal.  For a moment his mind drew an almost perfect blank.

     “Down here, Jak.  A little lower, if you please.”

     The prince jerked himself out of his trancelike stare and turned to the front of the massive room, looking closer to the flagstone floor.  There, on a soft cushion that looked like it had come from one of the big beds up in the living quarters, lounged a rather portly ottsel.  An ottsel that happened to be wearing clothing—a simple, sand-colored tunic—and drinking from a teacup with its pinky out.  It waved at him cheerfully with the other chubby hand.

     Jak gaped.  “Oh, my gods…”

     “Shut your mouth, son, and properly greet our guests.”

     Only then did Jak take notice of just who else was in the room.  The surreal scene was only expanded by the remaining company.  Damas sat straight-backed on his throne, familiar scowl in place.  Flanking him stood Torn and Sig on the one side, hands on their weapon hilts, and a decidedly nervous looking Samos on the other.  The court sage seemed to be having a staring contest with a second ottsel settled near his feet; impressive, considering that said ottsel’s eyes were covered entirely by a leather cap.

     A third ottsel, long and thin with a messy patch of dark brown head-fur, occupied a spot on a bench at a small table near the base of the throne where Keira sat.  She was stroking along its shoulders and down its back rather absently, while its tail switched to and fro in mellow enjoyment.  Also at the table were a couple that Jak was less than pleased to see—Erol and Ashelin sat on an opposing bench, expressions carefully schooled.  The commander merely raised a brow and frowned slightly when he met the prince’s eye.

     Finally, Jak found his voice.  It even managed not to waver.  “Dad, what’s going on?”

     Damas looked perturbed, in a kingly sort of way.  “Absolutely nothing.  We’re having tea and biscuits.  What does it look like?”

     “No need to get antsy.”  The chubby ottsel smiled behind his cup.  “What will happen here today has been brewing for years now.  No need to rush anything at this point.”  He gestured into the room as if he owned it.  “Please come and have a seat, Jak.  Have something to drink.  You must be parched after what you’ve been through.  We’ll need to do something about your friend there before the talking can begin, as well.”

     That helped Jak focus on the situation at hand rather than stare at the glowing entities in the back.  He came forward resolutely.  “You can help him?”

     Keira’s ottsel sat up under her hand, yawned, and stretched.  “Sure we can.  He just overtaxed himself.  Drop him over here, man.”

     Jak of course did no such thing, but he did sit down—shooting a glare at Erol across the way—on the other side of the messy-haired ottsel.  He held Daxter draped over his lap, a compromise between letting go of his friend entirely and giving the other ottsel easy access.

     “Alrighty, let’s see what we’ve got here.”  The lanky ottsel leaned over, almost nose to nose with Daxter, and pinched an orange and yellow cheek.  “Hmm.  I think we can work with this.  Hey, Dummy!  Come over here and give me a hand.”

     It took Jak a moment to realize that it was a name and not an insult, when the ottsel hovering around Samos’ ankles perked up and loped over, eyes still covered by his cap.  He had huge front teeth and a wibbly, meandering way of walking.  It was both ridiculous and cute, and the prince was smiling just a little when he felt a soft hand on his own.  Glancing back, he met Keira’s smile. 

     “I’m glad you’re back safe, Jak.  You had me worried, there.”

     “Sorry.”  Jak gave her hand a little return squeeze.  “Thank Dax, when he wakes up.  He’s the one who broke me out.  I’d have been in deep trouble if it weren’t for him.”

     Keira’s face scrunched up in a funny way as Jak gazed down fondly at the fur-ball in his lap.  It was obvious when she made the connection a second later; her mouth fell open in a perfect ‘o’ of surprise and wonder as she looked at the ottsels clustered around them, then back up to Jak.  “Are you serious?  Is that really—?”

     At the crackle of eco, both humans glanced down. 

     The mellower ottsel was gently petting Daxter’s head and face, clucking and cooing softly like a mother creature might to its young.  Green eco oozed from his hands and was raked into orange fur by careful fingers.  The other ottsel was doing the same down Daxter’s back and shoulders, but seeping blue eco rather than green.  Almost immediately Dax began to twitch in Jak’s hold.

     “There you go, little Lightning,” the taller ottsel smiled, ruffling his companion’s slowly rising ears.  “A double dose of healing and energy boost, just what the doc ordered.”

     “All better!” Dummy chirped happily.  He then dove from the bench and sped under the table with another flicker of blue, only to run smack into a table leg with a thud that made everyone sitting there jump.  “I’m okay!”

     Daxter chuckled sleepily, snuggling into Jak’s arms with a yawn.  “He still does that, huh?”

     “You better believe it, little bro.”

     Jak was delighted.  Despite the attention of everyone in the room, he couldn’t help but hug Daxter to his chest with a smile.  “Dax, you’re alright!” 

     Daxter rolled to his side, blinking up at the prince bemusedly.  “Yeah, m’okay.  What, uh… what happened, exactly?”

     It was probably unseemly behavior for royalty, but Jak wasn’t going to let his friend off his lap any time soon.  “You collapsed after making the eco barrier.  I was worried.” 

     “After completing the eco barrier, you mean.”  The portly ottsel finished off his tea somewhat daintily and set the cup aside.  “Not bad, for someone years out of practice.”  At Jak’s confused look and Daxter’s scowl, he laughed.  “What?  Jak, you don’t mean to tell me you thought your friend did all of that by himself?  Heavens, no!  You still have a long way to go toward a stunt like that, Lightnin—er, Daxter.”

     Daxter pouted and opened his mouth, a witty retort clearly on the tip of his tongue.  However, he was beaten to the punch when Damas slapped one meaty hand onto the leather-padded armrest of the throne with a loud clap.  Torn and Sig, who had been openly staring, snapped back to attention.  Daxter shut his mouth with an obvious click of teeth and huddled in Jak’s lap. 

     “This has all gone far enough,” the king huffed.  “If everyone is quite done with their refreshments, I don’t think I’m overstepping the bounds of propriety by asking that someone please fill me in on what the hell is going on here.”  He pointed to the chubby ottsel, who was now calmly polishing the rim of his teacup.  “We’ve already covered the fact that you are intelligent beings with considerable power over, at the very least, eco, and gods know what else that you haven’t divulged.  I can accept all that.  But correct me if I’m out of line by asking why you just called that little orange one—” the finger shifted to Daxter, “—by the name of one of our runaway slaves?”

     Samos coughed, shifted, and looked up at the wrought iron chandelier. 

     To Jak’s supreme interest, the lead ottsel’s ears went back.  He frowned for the first time since Jak had seen him.  “Actually, now that you mention it, let’s have a little chat about that.  It is after all a large part of why my colleagues and I are here.”

     Jak felt a small elbow nudge his ribs as Daxter settled in.  A resigned whisper accompanied the light jab.  “Oh, boy.  Here we go, big guy.  Listen up.”

     “As you seem interested in ottsels, King Damas—and you should be, for good reason—allow me to tell you a bit more about them.”  The chubby ottsel fluffed himself grandly, dismissed his cup once more, and began.  “Ottsels are an ancient race.  They are not born, at least not in the way you would be familiar with.  Rather, once in a great while, one will simply come into existence.  This occurs chiefly when the energies of the world are out of balance for one reason or another.  Each ottsel is created with his own unique talent: an affinity for one or more kinds of eco.  By learning to control these powers, they benefit the planet in ways you can’t even begin to imagine—sometimes by simply existing, and some sometimes in more direct ways.”

     The room was almost completely silent.  All eyes were fixed on the diminutive speaker.  Jak’s hand began to pet Daxter’s back slowly, rhythmically.

     “Now.  On to the question at hand.  There are not many of us.  In fact, you see before you in this very room the entirety of the ottsel population of the planet.  Consider yourself extremely privileged, by the by.”  The ottsel’s button nose twitched in a haughty sniff, and Jak felt the absurd urge to poke it.  “That said, we lead a life of solitude.  Rarely, if ever, do we come into contact with humans.  However, we do possess the ability to change form.”  It was almost, if not quite, a threat.  Calm but annoyed eyes stayed steadily fixed on the king.  “With practice we can assume the physical shape of a human, or any other creature, and go unnoticed with none the wiser.  This is something that we, as a rule, do not indulge in.  But on the other hand, as you might imagine, the excitement afforded by employing this technique can be a powerful lure… especially to a young one.”

     Jak stared, the movements of his hand ceasing.  Daxter hunkered down almost sheepishly.

     “One day some years ago a trade caravan passed through the mountains we usually prefer to inhabit.  The youngest among us had recently—unbeknownst to his elders, I might add—been practicing at his transformation skills, and found such close proximity to humanity too good an opportunity for amusement to pass up.  Imagine, if you will, a cheeky kit just coming into his powers.  Stalking the travelers is fascinating.  He blends right in and starts to feel cocky—so he thinks nothing of mouthing off to an old sage, who happens to have a decent stock of power of his own and a rather fragile temper.”

     The older ottsel shot a disapproving look at Daxter, who had hitherto been sitting stiffly in Jak’s lap.  It seemed that he could stand being silent no longer, though, and Jak felt fur bristle under his palm.

     “Well, ex-CUSE me fer makin’ one little comment about the fact that the old man had a LOG and a freakin’ BIRD on his head!” Daxter exploded, glowering across the way at the sage.

     “Be still,” the older ottsel told him sternly.  “When I need your input I will tell you so.”

     Before Samos could stutter a retort, Damas was waving his hands for quiet.  “Wait, wait, wait.  Hold on.  I need to process this.”  He took a deep breath, pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked at his right-hand sage.  “Samos.  Please.  Tell me that you did not, without any more provocation than a child’s insult, enchant and enslave a pet of the very Precursors.  Please, tell me that.  Tell me that and I will be entirely satisfied.”

     Samos harrumphed.  He coughed, rocked back on his log shoes, and looked back to the ceiling for inspiration.  “Your Highness… after hearing the brat’s annoying voice, can you really blame me?”

     “Daddy!” Keira yelled, half horror and half exasperation. 

     “What?!  It’s not like I knew the brat was a… a Precursor’s pet!  Oh, I knew there was something odd about him right from the get-go, of course.  Something unsettling.  He just came out of nowhere in the mountain pass, miles from any kind of civilization.  If that’s not strange I don’t know what is.  Wouldn’t say his name, where he was from, nothing!  I had a right to be suspicious.”  The old sage tapped his chin, mulling it over.  “Why, when you put it that way, it was almost my duty to bring him back to King Damas.  He was the most unique thing we found on that trip, if I recall correctly—”

     “So you tricked him into a collar that fed off his own power so he couldn’t use it to get away?”  The tall, skinny ottsel made a dissatisfied clicking noise from under the bench near Keira’s feet.  “And dimmed it enough that we couldn’t even track him down?  And kept him locked in human form for years?  That’s harsh, man.”

     The log-headed sage shuffled a bit, fiddling with the mismatched glasses on his nose.  “Well, I—”

     Dummy ottsel’s eyes still weren’t visible, but his exaggerated pout in Samos’ direction said it all.  “That wasn’t very nice.”

     “Not to mention the small fact that he was used for a slave.  Menial labor, poor diet, physical harm… That’s a pretty lofty insult to anyone, and especially to one of our kind.”  The pudgy ottsel tucked his hands into his sleeves, once more seeming serene and contemplative.  “I trust that you, Damas, will do what honor says you must and atone for this grave injustice.”

     Jak swallowed, looking at the flagstones between his boots.  While he had certainly befriended Daxter, and never done him any intentional harm, he had never gone out of his way to help him escape, either.  At least, not until recently.  And that was only after practically nearly raping him, at that.  Gods, they had all been monsters.  It was no wonder the other ottsels were pissed. 

     Looking ready to drive Samos into the floor like a wooden stake, Damas slowly got to his feet and assumed that royal manner Jak knew all too well.  “Of course, Ottsel Leader.  I am beholden to make amends for the poor judgment of my subordinates.  I can also admit that I may have been a bit… harsh with your young one while he was here.  Slave that he appeared, I thought nothing of it, and I too apologize.”

     “Maybe there’s a lesson on keeping slaves at all, here, huh?” the tallest ottsel muttered snippily from the vicinity of Keira’s shoes. 

      Damas glanced over at Jak, his expression darkening even further.  ‘If you actually forced that boy into a bedding and these freakish creatures call down the destruction of the very Precursors upon us I will kill your punk ass,’ was plainly the point.  Jak’s mouth fell open in indignation, and he unhesitatingly flipped his father the bird.  How dare the old man look at him like that?  It was Damas who had told him to do it in the first place!

     “A-hem!” Damas thundered, before visibly calming himself and addressing the ottsels once more.  “Please consider this my formal apology.  I will of course do anything in my power to right this wrong, pending it doesn’t negatively affect the well-being of my people.” 

     A pleasant smile appeared on a small, pudgy face.  “Ah, yes.  Glad to hear it, Your Majesty.  I don’t think you’ll find what we’ll ask of you too unfair or over the top.  In fact, it might even be to your liking.  Well!”  He turned on his cushion seat, casting an appraising eye over the rest of the assembly.  The gaze lingered on Erol and Ashelin, who had been surprisingly silent and well behaved for the duration of the audience.  “We might as well conclude all our business in one fell swoop.  It would be a shame to drag it all out.  You get ulcers that way.  And on that note, I suppose you should know that whatever happens won’t be as severe as it would have been if your son hadn’t been in the picture, Damas.”

     “Because he was kind to Daxter?” Keira asked. 

     Jak was thankful that she didn’t seem to have any fear of the ottsels.  They didn’t seem to be malignant beings, at least.  Neither did the glowing, silent set in the back of the room, for that matter, even if they were creepy.  He wondered again who or what they were, and what they were doing there.

     “Yes,” the ottsel in charge answered.  “But that’s only a smaller part of the whole.  You see, Jak and Lightni—Daxter were fated to meet.  We just didn’t anticipate that it would under such… difficult circumstances.”

     Damas sat back on his throne, shooting a look at Jak as he did so. 

     The green-blonde shrugged lightly.  He in turn glanced down at Daxter, who looked back up at him with a clear ‘I dunno’ expression.  Jak looked to his father and shrugged again.  “Nope.  Got nothing.”

     The king sighed, looking back at the ottsel on the cushion.  “I think you had better enlighten us, as I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

     “You may recall, Your Highness, an old tale about the city that used to stand here before your people built Spargus.”

     “Yes, I remember it.” Damas propped his chin on his hand, seeming thoughtful.  “I had thought it was only an old fable before we were exiled from Haven, but then the Wastelanders knew of it, too.  They swear it’s true.  Sig here is the one who told it to Jak, when he was small.” 

     Sig nodded slowly as was gestured at.  He was looking at Jak with a strange intensity that made the prince want to ask what was wrong, but the middle of a conversation was no time to do it.

     “Then I won’t go into great detail,” the ottsel leader said, tail twitching across the velvet of the cushion.  “Suffice for me to tell you, your Wastelander allies are right.  It is true that the last living human in that disgraceful settlement, a great hero, was blessed by the Precursors.  It was decreed that his descendants would one day return to this place and rule.  And, coincidentally enough, that young fellow’s name happened to be Mar.”

     Silence reigned for a long moment.  Jak found his eyes drawn to the banner draped above his father’s throne—bright red, with the swirling crest of the line of Mar stitched into it in gold.  It gleamed duly in the mixed light, slanted sunshine and glowing eco alike.  No way…

     “That’s preposterous!” Samos finally burst out.  “That is an old children’s story.  A legend.”  He harrumphed and crossed his arms firmly.

     “And where do you think legends come from, man?  Chill out and listen.”  Keira’s ottsel cast the sage a disapproving frown that was mirrored by Keira herself.

     Samos fell silent, sheepish once more in the face of their combined annoyance.

     The eldest ottsel did not look amused either, ears slanted back and eyes narrowed.  “Quite.  Whatever your take on the matter, my dear carrier of cranial logs, the truth is the truth.  The bloodline of Mar was fated to return to this desert—and so Damas was overthrown and outcast from Haven.  It was meant to be.  And when the last of that line met the newest member of our own… well.  As you can see.”  He shook off his irritation and smiled, pointing with his staff.  “The Prophesy was set in motion.”

     Jak suddenly felt all eyes on him.  On him, and on the little orange ottsel still sitting tight in his lap.  He flushed slightly.  “What?”

     “Jak is the Precursors-blessed heir of an ancient hero destined to rule a legendary kingdom with enough power to change the world.”  Torn, who had been professionally silent thus far while awaiting orders from his king, shook his head slowly.  His dreads swayed around his shoulders.  “Now I’ve heard it all.”

     “See, I told you!  I always knew there was something special about that kid.”  Sig elbowed the commander in the ribs, eliciting a loud “oomph!”

     Jak honestly didn’t know what to make of it all.  Him, part of an ancient prophesy?  Descended from a man straight out of a mystical legend that was actually history?  It was a lot to wrap his brain around.  But, if everything the ottsels had told them was true, and he and Daxter were supposed to be together on some deep, cosmic level…

     Maybe they won’t take him away from me after all!  His heart thrilled at the thought.

     From the moment he laid eyes on the new ottsels, Jak had known.  They were there to find Daxter, to take him away from the city that had held him captive, back to wherever it was he had come from.  Jak had no claim.  Hell, Daxter wasn’t even the little guy’s real name.  It was Lightning, apparently.  There was no way the elder ottsels would allow him to stay, or even to visit, probably.  Jak had been feeling steadily worse in a downward spiral since then, soaking up the soothing warmth of his friend for the last time.  But maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be the last time after all.

     “You.”  The eldest ottsel beckoned to Daxter, pulling Jak out of his contemplations.

     “What?!  I didn’t say anything!”

     “Yes, you’ve done very well keeping quiet.  That’s not what I meant.  Come over here and change into your human form, Lightning.  I’ve never gotten a chance to see it before.  Even if you were doing it without guidance or permission, being able to convincingly alter yourself enough to fool even a sage is an accomplishment.”  There was an almost paternal fondness behind the words.

     Daxter perked up, obviously confused by the sudden request but undeniably pleased with the praise.  “Sure thing, Pops.  ‘Scuse me a sec, big guy.”  He slid from Jak’s lap and swaggered to the middle of the floor, then stopped cold with one foot half raised.  “Uh… not ta put a damper on anything, but it’s kinda rude ta be a human and not have any clothes on.  At least,” here he shot a quick look at Jak, “in public.”

     The prince flushed and coughed lightly.  Suddenly he agreed completely that Daxter human and naked in the throne room was a bad idea.  He needed to be human and naked behind Jak’s locked door.  And Jak needed to stop thinking about that, because this was sooo not the time or place.

     The ottsel leader waved a chubby hand dismissively.  “Don’t worry about that.  You don’t think I’ve been around long enough to learn how to apply eco fabrication to some actual fabric?”

     “If you say so.”  Apparently that was all the assurance he needed, for a split second later the cloud of yellow that accompanied all of Daxter’s eco tricks crackled around him.

     Keira squeaked and covered her eyes, while Jak shielded his own with one hand.  He was in time to see the elder ottsel shake his staff and a spark of blue shimmer in the mix.  A moment later the dancing spots of light cleared, Jak lowered his hand, and there was his redhead, inspecting the luxurious blue robes he had been decked out in. 

     “Ooh, soft!”  Daxter twiddled with the wide sleeves, the supple silks, the clean cotton.  Loose, breathable pants tied off just below his knees, where intricate foot wraps began.  “Comfy, too.  Nice digs, Pops!”

     Jak’s chest swelled with amusement and affection as he watched his friend fuss, primly adjusting the goggles he had suddenly grown into again.  He smiled, allowing himself to hope that he would continue to see sights like that for a long while to come.  The ottsels wouldn’t really be heartless enough to split them up, right?

     Unbeknownst to Jak, he wasn’t the only one intently observing his redhead.  While Daxter showed off to his furry companions and Damas held a murmured counsel with Torn and Sig, Erol had leaned forward over the table.  Jak had almost forgotten that he and Ashelin were there, until the Haven commander spoke.

     “Fascinating…”

     Jak turned on the bench to face him.  “Huh?”

     “Creatures that can manipulate eco at their will.  I had my doubts, but perhaps I believe that they’re responsible for the shield around this city after all.”  Up close, in the daylight, his blue eyes were flecked with gold.  It was oddly unsettling.  “What a find!  Can you imagine the sheer advantage a force would have with one of those animals in their control—?”

     Jak was abruptly grateful that there was, in fact, a tabletop between them.  Diplomatic meetings tended to go to shit when you beat someone’s face in.  “Daxter,” he growled, glaring daggers at Erol, “is not an animal!”

     Before things could escalate, there was suddenly a furry form blocking the prince’s view of his adversary.  “Simmer, dudes.  We’re about to get to the point here, I promise.  All you humans are gonna have to cooperate for a little while, you dig me?”

     “Mind your manners!” Dummy chirped, still running laps around the bench. 

     The chubby ottsel nodded.  “Sound advice.  You can sit back down, Lightning.  No… no, wait.  Come back here.  There’s no sense putting this off.  Delightful as this little visit has been, we need to be on our way soon.”

     Daxter stopped his headlong rush back to Jak’s side, but didn’t make a move back toward his leader, either.  His ears flicked in confusion.  “Huh?  But ya just got here!  You guys are leavin’ already?”

     “We certainly can’t stay, Lightning.  We have to leave—and so do you.”

     Jak’s heart sank down to his boots.  Well, damn. 

     Daxter didn’t look pleased, either, against all odds.  In fact, he looked shocked.  “Wadda’ya mean, I gotta leave?  Jak let me free, so it’s okay now.  I can come and go whenever I want!  And I wanna stay here right now.”

     “You’re not a human, Lightning, though you might look and act like one.”  The ottsel leader’s voice was stern.  “And you don’t belong here.  You have a job to do, just like the rest of us.  When we return home you’ll have quite the task ahead, brushing up on your skills and adding to your knowledge.  You’ve lost more than a few years’ worth of practice time, you know.”

     “I guess…”  Daxter looked as miserable as Jak felt, ears flat to the sides of his head and pointing at the floor.  It was small comfort that he wasn’t ready and willing to run for the hills, leaving all that remained of his life of slavery behind.

     The portly ottsel chuckled lightly.  “Don’t look so put out, kit.  Cheer up.  I think you’ll find your eco training a little more interesting from now on.”

     “Yeah?”  The redhead remained dull, shoulders slumped, obviously uncaring.

     “Yes, I believe so.  Because, you see, we’re taking your friend the prince with us.”

 

- // - // - // - // -

 

To be continued…

 

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(2^nd)AN:  So one day I will totally mean it when I say “this is the LAST goddamn chapter!!”  But today isn’t that day, obviously.  I just couldn’t condense two chapters of plot into one.  I tried.  And there really should be some sort of epilogue (you’ll see why after next chapter).  So it’s still ongoing.  At least one more chapter.  Good lord.

 

Outtakes!

 

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Ottsel Dax:  Okay, Jak.  You’re going to see something very weird going on with your city.  But I need you to help me out and stay calm, because it’s nothing bad, alright?

 

Jak:  Of course, Dax.  I’m a prince.  I’m not easily startled.

 

Dax:  Great!  Just so long as you don’t freak out when you—

 

Jak:  OH MY GOD, what the hell is that around my city?!  Is it gonna blow up?!  Oh my God, we’re all gonna die!  Aaaaahh!  Aaaaaaahh!!  *runs in circles screaming*

 

Dax:  *facepalm*

 

- - - - -

 

Damas: Let me get this straight, O Badass Furry Precursor Thing.  I’m supposed to talk to you as an equal?  Me?  The king of Spargus?  Chat it up with a tubby little weasel?

 

Ottsel Leader: I am not fat, I’m big boned!  Respect my authority, damn you!

 

- - - - -

 

 

Keira:  (petting Surfer ottsel) Oh, gosh, you’re just so cute and fluffy and adorable and I wanna hug you and squeeze you and love you!

 

Sufer: *purrs* And Lightning’s been fooling around with the PRINCE?  Damn that kit is confused…

 

- - - - -

 

Erol: Just so there’s not, like, any confusion, here: yes, I want to strap you all to tables and have my wicked way with you.

 

Daxter: …….

 

Sig: ……

 

Torn: ……

 

Jak:  DAAAD~!!

 

Damas: *blasts Erol with gunstaff*  GTFO, creeper.

 

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