UnShaekable (FFXII)

XXIX) Trading Mountains for Molehills

I pull my lance free from the final ice wolf's neck, hot blood spilling into the melting snow. Fran sheathes her loose arrow and turns her face to the wind, eyes narrowing against its sting. Sighing, I twist at the armor at my wrist as if it's a shackle and not a tool to hide my painful reminders. Vaan huffs, shuddering.

"Are we almost there?"

"The guides said the Shrine is just up this path," Ashe replies, dragging her heavy boots through the deep snow. "The longer we stand and talk, the longer you'll freeze."

"Yeah, yeah," the thief sighs, hugging his arms to his body. Penelo looks equally miserable, shivering with blue lips and fingertips. "I'm starving. We haven't any real food for days."

"Quit whining," I huff, crossing my arms and trudging along. I glance down at Balthier's open-ended shoes and frown. "Aren't you cold?"

"Not quite," he replies, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you?"

"At least my shoes cover my feet," I scoff, turning my face up to the sun in hopes of warming up. The light heats my face gently, not nearly enough to protect me from the freezing temperatures, but enough to refresh my spirits.

"I generally walk forward, so the holes at the back are really not an issue." Balthier eyes my shirt. "However, those useless cut-outs on your shoulders may be cause for concern before long."

I give a disinterested hum and scan our surroundings for enemies as we climb a towering hill. Vaan sticks his hands in the snow and drags himself up, Penelo frowning at her friend and shaking her head. Basch glances around at all of us, his light eyes staying on me a little longer as he mulls over something. Then, shaking his head, he turns away and nods toward the view ahead I haven't quite reached.

"There we are. The Stilshrine."

"Already?" I ask, stepping up beside him to scan over the sun-kissed blocks building up the temple looming ahead. Vaan bursts out in relieved laughter and runs down the hill, the snow stopping short at the temple's first towering pillars. "It's a relief to take a short walk for once."

"Relish in it," Balthier mutters, starting toward the Shrine. "It may be the last one we take."

"I certainly hope not," I sigh. "Though, at some point, we have to return to Dalmascan terrain."

"That's a long journey," Basch replies. "However, we have chocobos and perhaps even the assistance of Al-Cid. He may have a faster means of travel."

"I can't wait to feel a sunburn again," I breathe, smiling. "And sand, the pesky stuff. I can't wait to feel that scraping me all up while I work on my ship."

"You certainly seem to live a rather tame life," Balthier comments, though I think he says it more to get under my skin. I roll my eyes.

"I may just become a hermit for a while after this. I've had enough adventure in the past decade to last me the rest of my life."

"Is that so? You've only lived for two of those."

"Stories for another time." 

He doesn't miss my playful wink.

The stone is solid and rough under my feet, the shrine's overhanging arches and pillars creating a sense of scale that steals my breath away. The doors draw closer much quicker than I would like. Unfortunately, we must enter at some point. A kiltias stops us by the door, bowing to Ashe.

"Lady Ashe, a message. The legend tells us the Sword of Kings was never meant to be used for the base spilling of blood. Think you on these words."