Author's Note: Wow, I honestly didn't expect this fic to do nearly as well as it has – and right out of the gate, too! Thank you so much to everyone who read the first chapter, and I hope you continue to read and that this fic continues to live up to your expectations. On with the chapter!
Origins
By LeFox
Chapter Two: Taharka
The dragons were smaller than he had expected them to be, but then, he hadn't expected there to be five of them. Kuja had never seen a dragon before, and he was surprised to find how incorrectly he had imagined they might look. They weren't scaled, as the stories said, but were feathered instead. They wore the heavy harnesses he'd heard about, but the harnesses weren't decorated or painted, but were plain leather and beaten metal, unornamented. All of the dragons he'd ever heard about were green, naturally, being covered in scales. These dragons were red-feathered, with golden crests arching from their skulls to their tails. They roared in recognition as their master approached, and Kuja flinched.
Neirin looked down, smiling. "Never seen a dragon before, I take it? …Oh, right, you're from Bran Bal, aren't you," he chuckled. "Well, these are Crested Royals. Not the sturdiest breed, but they're built for speed and beauty. You see them in races quite a bit." Dragon races? Kuja's head spun. He'd never seen a dragon before in his life, and Neirin was talking about dragon races as if they were an everyday occurrence. Did everyone have dragons in the city? Would he have a dragon in the city?
The guardians climbed into the saddles of their dragons, fastening the harness gear around their waists and securing the gear to the harness with heavy metal clips. Neirin lifted Kuja into the saddle of the fifth dragon, before swinging up gracefully behind him. Kuja looked around, suddenly anxious. He had no gear, himself; there was nothing to secure him to the dragon's harness once it was in flight. "If you fall, you'll be dead before you have the time to worry about it," Neirin told him, securing his own gear quickly.
Well, that was reassuring.
As a flimsy bit of security, Neirin wrapped one strap of the gear around Kuja's waist, and pulled it tight. "But just in case, we'll see to it that you'll dangle instead of tumble, hm?" Gratefully, the boy tried to sit perfectly still, lest the strap become necessary. Neirin looked back at the guardians, who nodded and, one by one, took flight. The dragons extended their wings, lifted them, and then pushed themselves into the sky with powerful pounding strokes. The dirt beneath them fanned up and formed a dense dusty cloud, which left Kuja choking. He wanted to ask why they hadn't taken to the air, but couldn't draw the breath to do so. Neirin appeared untroubled by the dust, as he gazed upward, shielding his eyes with one hand. Overhead, the guardians fell into a circle one at a time, circling out wider and wider.
"Hold on tight," the prince advised, and Kuja sank his nails into the leather of the harness straps. He had no idea what he ought to expect, but he knew he didn't want to fall out of the harness. Whether he had 'time to worry about it' or not, the boy had no interest in dying today. He wanted to close his eyes, but he found himself unable to do so – the anticipation was exhilarating. The dragon's wings spread wide around him, slowly, so slowly. They rose up, and the boy braced himself for the rise.
Instead, it felt more like a fall. The dragon's wings swept down sharply, pushing them up into the sky. Kuja's stomach dropped sharply, and he gasped as the world below fell away. The wind swept up beneath the dragon's wings, and they soared upward toward the blue-grey sky. "We don't have far to fly," Neirin yelled, over the sound of the wind. "It'll only be a matter of moments. You'll see the manor before you know it." He said something else, but his words were swallowed by the wind as they joined the guardians and ceased to rise. They leveled out perfectly in the center of the circle, and the guardians swept out of the circle, instead forming a diamond around Neirin's dragon. A protective formation, Kuja realized, watching as the four riders flew alongside them, fascinated and amazed by how easily and precisely they controlled the dragons they rode.
They flew with the wind, and indeed the trip was swift, but the boy found he was ill-suited for flight. Perhaps it was the looseness of his makeshift harness, or the dizzying heights, or the motion of the wings moving beneath and around him. Whatever the case, his stomach roiled, and he couldn't wait to land. He found himself watching the faraway land below, eager for any sign of the manor, though he couldn't say just what the manor was supposed to look like. When the dragons began to descend, he didn't even notice the decline in altitude. He watched the man in the armor on the dragon in front of them turn and yell something, but he couldn't make out the words. Kuja felt the prince nod, and then…
…the world snapped back into place. The dragon's feet touched the earth heavily, jarring him from his vertigo, shaking him from his dizziness. He slid sideways, only to be caught by the harness strap. He stared at it, bewildered, as if he hadn't the slightest idea what to make of it. Neirin unfastened himself and slid down from the saddle. Curiously, the prince turned to look at his new companion, and was confused to find him dangling semi-consciously from the harness strap.
"Not bad for your first flight," Neirin assured him, reaching for the strap. "Most people vomit. And next to no security equipment; you're practically a professional." The strap slid free, and Neirin slid Kuja carefully to the ground. The boy was content to lie on his back and wait for the world to settle back into itself for now, but Neirin had more important matters to tend to. He swept away, heading toward the manor.
The manor was rather more like a keep, built like a fortress, in a more tumultuous time. The walls were made of thick blue-grey stone, and every stone was laced with golden wards, meant to withstand almost any magical assault. The wards weren't as strong as they had once been, but it was just as well; they weren't needed in these peaceful times. The walls reached skyward, but there were no towers; the manor was rather like a misshapen square block sitting at the edge of the forest, ringed by a lake. As many buildings on Terra were, it had been crafted without attention to shape, but to appear like some living thing, carved from the earth itself. The resulting manor wasn't very attractive, but it was very private, and that was precisely what Neirin and his mother had wanted. Neirin sighed, looking at the banners over the manor. His own was the highest, of course, bearing the seal of Terra: Triangles and inverted triangles contained within a ring.
The others…
"What part of holiday don't these people understand?" he asked, throwing his hands into the air, exasperated. Maliris was closest, and she rolled her eyes and said, "They're nobility. You're royalty. It's like wild animals and fresh meat – where the meat goes, the beasts follow." Neirin sighed again, scowling to match Maliris's own. "Well, this meat is beginning to wish it could bite back." She laughed at that, of course. For all her dark moods, Maliris was almost disappointingly easy to amuse.
Neirin looked back at the orphan boy, whose name he had already forgotten. The boy was still lying on the ground, though he had rolled onto his stomach, grasping at the ground as if desperately relieved to find that it was solid beneath him. Rolling his eyes skyward, the prince muttered, "See to it the boy gets cleaned off, then send him to me."
"And just where will I be sending him?" She was annoyed; her pride had been injured by the order to act as little more than a nursemaid.
Neirin shrugged. "The throne room, I suppose. I'll be holding court. You should attend, too." He gestured to the banners flying overhead. "Taharka is here."
The guardians led Kuja inside, and then promptly vanished, presumably to find their master. They handed him off to a servant, who handed him off to a second servant, who passed him along to a steward, who told him to wait in a large, empty chamber. He sat down in a corner, nearly in tears – no one seemed to know where he was meant to go, or what he was meant to do, for of course the silent, harsh guardians hadn't seen fit to explain it, and he certainly couldn't. The prince couldn't be consulted while occupied with court, whatever that meant.
He found himself wishing he hadn't left Bran Bal, for at least he knew the little village. I could run away, he thought, looking around suddenly, realizing no one would notice if he slipped out of this room: the doorway stood unguarded. I could run back to Bran Bal. It was only on the other side of the forest. It might be a long walk, but he was used to that – he could find his way, in time. The forest was familiar to him. Perhaps not this area, but he could find his way if he managed to climb up onto the platforms, he could see the way. With renewed confidence, the boy stood and crept to the door. No one stood outside; no one seemed concerned with guarding an eight-year-old child. That suited him just fine. It would be easier this way.
The halls were deserted, save for a number of servants who, for the most part, ignored him. Kuja was terrified he might encounter one of the servants who had passed him along, but he found none of them. Nor did he find his way to the exit, or anywhere else useful, for that matter. The halls twisted and doubled back on one another, winding around and crossing back like serpents; this building was entirely different from the simple buildings he had grown used to in Bran Bal. Kuja realized he had passed the same painting at the same cross-hallway three times, and each time he was certain he had taken a different route. He glared at it, his hands curled into fists.
"Well," he growled at it. "Damn you, anyway." He knew he wasn't supposed to use such language, and somehow, that made everything just the slightest bit better. He looked down the remaining three halls, wondering if there was a way he hadn't tried yet. Or… no, maybe he had tried all three, but had taken a wrong turn somewhere further on. But how would he know? He growled in frustration, and stomped his foot. He'd come so far! He could navigate through a forest blindfolded; why couldn't he make it through a building? Infuriated and losing patience, Kuja took off at a run, tearing down the hallways like a small, enraged beast. He didn't care who saw him; they couldn't stop him; he would make his way out of the manor before anyone could possibly stop him.
The guardian in the dragon armor found him first.
The man came out of nowhere, or so it seemed. Kuja whirled around a corner, not anticipating that anyone might be standing there, only to collide with a solid, unyielding wall of metal. The world went hazy for a moment. When it slid firmly back into focus, Kuja found himself on the floor, cradling his head on his knees. That had hurt. His ears rang, his head pounded, his vision remained blurry.
"You're in quite a hurry." The voice was like stones grinding together, and it struck terror into the boy's heart. He knows I'm trying to run. Was the dragon going to kill him? Would the prince sweep in to save him again? …No, he was at "court." Kuja was on his own now. He scrambled backwards, not bothering to struggle to his feet; if the man tried to kill him, at least he could try to roll away. The ache pounding through his skull didn't bode well for a chase. Should it come to that, he was most assuredly doomed.
To his surprise, the man laughed.
"So you're a coward, then," he said, stepping forward with wide, powerful strides. His hand, encased in a heavy gauntlet, closed around Kuja's arm before the boy could escape, surrounding the arm completely. "You'd make for a poor assassin, and you'll make an even sorrier pet. Then again, Neirin never has had the sharpest taste in pets." Kuja stared at the armored hand, knowing he couldn't break free, yet every muscle in his body urged him to try. But the dragon-man would surely tear his arm off. Where was the prince? Neirin would have stopped the man, just like he had stopped the woman in the forest!
"And where are you supposed to be?"
The question caught him off guard. Kuja looked up, confused. The hand on his arm wasn't hurting him, but pulling him up to his feet, and though the man didn't release him, he didn't seem eager to harm him, either. The boy stammered for a moment, unsure of what he ought to say – after all, he could hardly admit that he was planning to run away, not to one of Neirin's guardians. When he was unable to supply an answer, the dragon-man heaved a sigh that dripped with annoyance. "Well, come along, then. You might as well keep us entertained until you can manage to untangle your tongue long enough to provide an answer."
The guardians were housed in a room adjacent to the guards' barracks, but their lodgings were far more luxurious than the guards'. Their beds were large and canopied, each tucked into a corner of the room, providing each of the four with their own space, however small that space might be. A basin with water sat against the far wall, and both the basin and the pitcher beside it were elaborately decorated with various images out of some story Kuja didn't think he recognized; similar images graced the canopies of the guardians' beds: hideous beasts, grand battles, depictions of gods. The boy stared at the pictures, fascinated, trying to follow the tale only to become helplessly lost in the wild, vivid colors.
When the dragon-man shoved him into one of the chairs sitting around a table in the center of the room, Kuja didn't resist; it wouldn't serve him well to argue at this point. The snake-woman Maliris and the man with the skulls sat at the table, as well, watching him curiously. The man sat down heavily in another chair, glaring pointedly at him from across the table, but Kuja simply stared at his bare feet, dangling pitifully above the floor. He was in yet another place where he didn't know what he was supposed to do, but this time, he couldn't escape.
"You called yourself Kuja," Maliris said, and the boy simply nodded; what else could he do? Luckily, the woman didn't seem terribly concerned with his answer. "I am Maliris," she continued. "You've met Tiamat." She gestured with one heavily-jeweled hand toward the man in the dragon armor, who grunted in acknowledgement. "Our dear Kraken is absent, seeing to the fools who've come to see what they can get out of the queen regent and the prince. And lastly, this is Lich." She nodded toward the man with the skull necklace, who was watching Kuja intently.
Timidly, the boy looked up. "You have strange names," he commented, and all three of them laughed, as if it were the strangest thing anyone had ever said to them.
It was Lich who finally spoke, and he stood as he did so, as if to add a sense of gravity and severity to the discussion at hand. "Think of them as titles. When we became guardians, we gave up the names we were given at birth, and took on new identities. We are named after the four Beasts of Chaos, guardians of the First Kings. Look at the images." He pointed with one thin, pale finger at the pictures on the canopies over the four beds. "The Maliris, God of Serpents, the Fire Chaos. It wielded six sabers; each imbued with a spell that would slaughter the enemy even after the Maliris itself had fallen. The Tiamat, a triple-headed dragon, and the Wind Chaos. It was said to be able to call up a vortex so powerful, it carried those who fell into it away into another dimension. The Kraken, a sea monster, the Water Chaos. It could drown its victims, even on land. And finally," Lich paused, drawing himself up proudly. "The Lich, God of Judgment, the Earth Chaos. It held judgment over all mortals, and could decide to bring them death if he found them unworthy. All four guarded the First Kings of Terra, when first they claimed this world as their own." He sank back down into his seat, his story completed.
Kuja listened to all of this with rapt attention, for he loved stories and legends. When Lich sat down, he frowned; was the story over already? "Well, what sort of things did they do?" he pressed, forgetting his anxiety in his eagerness. "Did they… did they go on adventures, or help the First Kings claim their thrones?" Surely such impressive beasts couldn't merely be pets, there had to be some sort of story behind them! "How did the Kings come to be guarded by them?" He wondered aloud. "Did they have to best them in combat? Or-"
Lich laughed, a raspy, unusual sound. "Neirin's picked a curious little toy, hasn't he? Well, since you asked-"
Before the man could finish, the door slammed open, and an infuriated Kraken stormed into the room, screaming wordlessly in unbridled rage. Kuja cowered in his chair, then quickly slid out of it, because in her current state, Kraken wasn't likely to notice him if she chose to sit down. Her dark, curled hair fell crazily around her face, and her eyes were wide and wild, and she appeared as if at any given moment, she might simply explode. Kuja, for his part, simply retreated into a small crevice between two of the beds, hoping she wouldn't notice him.
"That sniveling, self-assured snake," she snapped, throwing herself into the abandoned chair. It creaked in protest, as much from the force of anger as from the guardian's weight. "He's done it this time! He'll get himself thrown in the dungeon for a certainty! If he doesn't, I'll kill him myself, I swear I will!" Her voice had gone shrill, and none of the wildness had retreated. Maliris reached over and, as Kuja watched with horrified fascination, slapped Kraken. The sound echoed in the small room.
"Speak clearly, or don't speak at all," Maliris said flatly, sitting back down. "We have company. Conduct yourself with dignity, or at least explain why you don't want to do so." Curiously, Kraken looked around; her gaze finally settling on Kuja's hiding spot. Maliris sighed. "Get back over here, brat. She won't bite unless you wiggle around too much." Slowly, Kuja crept from his little crevice, and wandered shyly back over to the table. "Now look what you've done, you've scared Neirin's new brat," Maliris said flatly, glaring at Kraken, who simply shrugged.
Kuja looked between the four guardians, wishing one of them would explain what was going on, and too terrified to ask. Curiosity was the curse of childhood, and he wished he didn't wonder so much about the affairs of adults.
In the end, he was saved from this torment by Lich, who appeared to have noticed his interest. "Learn this name well, boy: Taharka." Taharka. Kuja didn't think the word meant anything in particular to him; clearly it only concerned those of higher society. Lich continued. "Taharka is the head of an old doomsday cult – one of the groups who claim we worship a false god, and that this life cycle will end much sooner than any of the cycles before it, perhaps even in our own lifetime. The cult itself has always been weak in the past; largely disregarded, but Taharka is… different. He's more than a fanatic. He's a scientist, you could say, and he believes that, in the end, it is science that will save Terra."
"He's a thrice-damned fool," Maliris hissed, and Kraken nodded. Tiamat appeared unmoved.
Lich simply gave her a look of exasperation, and then pressed on. "Not us, per se, but Terra – the planet itself. The cult believes something has gone fundamentally wrong with each of Terra's prior cycles; that it has incorrectly fused with other planets. Taharka, however, has continuously come up with strange methods to… control the cycle. At first, he was merely an amusing fool, but of late he has become…" Lich frowned. "Almost dangerous. Particularly now that his methods have begun to involve experimentation. On people."
"If nothing else, it's still entertaining to see what sort of madness he comes up with next," Tiamat commented, grinning. "And one of these days, the queen or prince will tire of him and put him to death. Taharka is nothing more than an insect."
Kraken lifted herself to her feet, and glared at Tiamat. "Well, I'm off to watch the insect meet with the queen and prince. You lot should, too. You won't believe what he thinks he can get away with this time." She stalked off, and shortly thereafter, all three of the other guardians followed, and though he wasn't invited, so did Kuja.
Author's Note: And that's it for this week. The next chapter will be up next Tuesday; see you then!
