Author's Note: I don't know why this chapter was so hard to write. I've been wanting to write this chapter (well, this chapter and the next chapter) since day one. I'm sorry it's taken me so long; I'm going to try really, really hard not to fall behind like that again, but with finals week coming up, it could happen, and if it does, I'm sorry. :c

Tifalochrt, welcome to the fic! I'm so glad you're loving it so far; I hope it stays this awesome. I'm certainly trying, anyway. I have no idea when the word "complete" will be slapped on this fic – it could go on forever, at this rate (but everyone's gotta die eventually). WiREP, yeah, Jalen's not happy. As for Elisi, um, it gets worse? Pip, there's at least a tiny bit of Kuja in this chapter. The story's really kind of veering away from him at the moment, unfortunately. He's kind of being pushed around by bigger events. But he's there, anyway! Clement Rage, I always kind of like elaborating on those ellipses. If I could, I'd go through all of Oeilvert and expand on what's there, but alas, the story doesn't allow for it (I had to sort of force in the one, but I wanted to make it clear that we were actually dealing with Oeilvert, and not, I dunno, Ipsen's Castle or something). And you didn't like Ark, huh? Boy are you just going to love this chapter and the next one. Blacktepes, I'm glad I surprised you! Sometimes I worry I'm too heavy-handed with my foreshadowing. And yes, I absolutely tried to bring in some Mood Whiplash there at the end – "Aww, so cute what so sad" is one of my specialties. Midnight the Black Fox, what's gonna happen to Jalen? Let's find out!

On with the chapter!


Origins

By LeFox

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Desert Vengeance

Jalen lost track of time. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what had gone wrong – one moment he'd been standing firm, a solid block between Elisi and whatever Taharka could throw at her… and the next, Elisi was lying on the ground, cold and unmoving, and Taharka was laughing. At least, it sounded like laughter. Jalen couldn't process the sound; it was far away and unimportant. He knelt beside what had once been Elisi, and gently brushed her hair away from her face – gently, as if she might wake up and lecture him for disturbing her. Her eyes were half-open; her lips were just barely parted, as if in shock.

He wondered if she'd felt any pain. Could a soul feel pain if it was ripped from the body?

"I should kill you next," Taharka was saying, and Jalen only just barely heard him. He gently closed Elisi's eyelids the rest of the way, trying to tell himself she was only sleeping. If he killed Taharka, she'd get her soul back – wouldn't she? That was how this worked, wasn't it? "I should kill you next, and never have to worry about you again. Not," Taharka added, "that you've made much of an obstacle of yourself."

Laughing, Taharka simply turned his back on the mercenary and walked away. He had more important tasks now: the Invincible needed its final piece, and the museum had to be inspected and, when the time was right, completed. There was nowhere left for Jalen to run now, after all. The mountains would kill him, as would the deserts, as would the ocean. Taharka put Jalen out of his mind as he approached the glowing red disk – at last, at last, one of the pieces of the puzzle was complete. His flagship was complete. He allowed himself to revel in a moment of absolute triumph, bathed in the radiant crimson light.

"Behold the power of souls!" No one was around to hear his declaration; his followers were only just beginning to rise. The glorious sunrise heard him, though, and flashed brilliantly off the hull of the waiting Invincible. Taharka rested a hand on the crystal – warm to the touch already! – and activated the teleportation runes he'd so carefully placed upon the disk at its creation. The disk vanished, and Taharka smiled. And now to test it. He began the walk back to the Invincible, which lay awaiting its master's command.

Not much of an obstacle. Jalen's eyes rose slowly, settling on Naki's body. Was she dead? Had he killed her? He hadn't realized how hard he'd hit her; he hadn't meant to kill her. He'd wanted to get out of here with as little collateral damage as possible; he'd made friends among the cultists; he'd only meant to get Elisi and run to Kiera. The mountains were treacherous, but with her, he could make it. Together, they could make it. Together, they could do anything.

There was no more together.

Something inside of him snapped. Rage and misery and the All-Seeing Eye only knew what else boiled through him, filling his veins with liquid fire. It hurt. Gods above, it hurt. His skin felt too tight, like everything inside was straining to get out, and there was nothing he could do to hold it back. He screamed, though he couldn't say if it came from pain or rage, and it didn't matter. There was a sudden flash, as if the entire world around him at simply exploded in the wake of his anger, dissolving into a vibrant haze… and then the light faded, and Jalen realized it had left him a completely different person than he'd been before. He was better. Jalen felt more powerful than he'd ever been before, bathed in a faint red light, energy seeping from every inch of his skin.

He rose to his feet slowly, and marched over to Naki's corpse. At her belt was a dagger – she didn't know how to use it, Jalen recalled; she'd carried it only because she had it and had felt wasteful not carrying it – and Jalen took it.

"This is your fault," he told her, wishing he had the sort of cold-blooded spite to kick her. He didn't. And it wasn't her fault; it was his, for not escaping with Elisi sooner.

There would be time to deal with that later.

"Taharka!" He turned his gaze toward the ship sitting on the horizon; the ship Taharka had brought to shore with him. The airship. I'll smash it before it ever gets off the ground. "Taharka!" He screamed again, marching toward the ship. He tried to form a more coherent threat, but couldn't; his mind was a blur of emotions he couldn't name. "Taharka!" Nothing would make him feel right again until he smashed that ship into the smallest of splinters; nothing could ever be okay again until Taharka was dead at his hands.

xxx

Something was wrong.

Taharka stood before the red disk at the Invincible's heart, checking once again that yes, all of the correct attachments were in place, and yes, the crystal disk was securely in place, and yes, the disk had properly absorbed the girl's soul. All was in place. All was as it should be. So why wasn't the Invincible responding as it should? Had his follower been mistaken; was the girl not a half-soul? As he recalled, the woman was unnaturally gifted when it came to detecting these things. She could have lied, he supposed, but it seemed unlikely; she was a fanatic. She wouldn't have wasted his time on a lie, not when it was this important; not when the mistake couldn't be remedied easily. If Jalen's whore wasn't a half-soul, and he'd incorrectly absorbed her soul, then the entire project – the entire ship – was a waste.

But I felt her power, he thought, frustrated beyond words. He'd felt it! Standing there before the crystal, he'd felt the power flowing and pulsing. Power of that magnitude couldn't be imagined; it had to be real.

The Invincible itself was a craft of perfection, Taharka knew, and he'd created the crystal disk himself, and he was nothing if not the master of alchemy. But the two pieces were not fitting together as they should: the ship and its heart were not uniting. Bound together as they were, there could be no physically separating the two, and as such, they were both utterly useless.

The Invincible was a failure.

Taharka sighed, leaning against the wall. "All of my work," he growled at the emptiness around him. "Wasted." Something would have to be done to dispose of the ship. As to what, Taharka wasn't certain. He could scarcely bring himself to imagine destroying the craft he'd spent so long building from the ground up; he would have to delegate the task to his followers.

His followers. The soldiers who had traveled with him on the other ship would be waiting to see the Invincible rise; they had seen him walking triumphantly back to a ship he'd intended to let sit for months if need be. They had to know he'd found a soul. Taharka didn't know how to tactfully admit his failure – morale among his followers could only fall so much further before things became dangerous. They'd seen Terra die at their own hands, with no sign of the promised "guardian" in sight. What if, they whispered, Terra died before Garland could be created? What if they died before Garland could be created? They had watched their promised immortality dry up as the Genomes died by the hundreds in Lisre and Archae One; they had every reason to be worried. No one even knew where Neirin was now. Taharka had spies in every city on the mother continent, but they had all fallen remarkably silent.

It worried him. Neirin was the only First Soul he knew of, and given the rarity of such souls, it seemed likely that he could very well be the only one left living with any real power at his disposal.

I should have used Bellanna. Taharka glanced irritably at the stone around his neck. Much longer, and it would lose its usefulness; it hadn't been created to last nearly this long. It shouldn't have been needed for more than one night – the night he'd stormed the palace with all of his men, expecting to find Neirin an easy catch. He'd underestimated the guardians, and he'd underestimated Neirin's remarkable resilience. The prince had slipped through his fingers at every turn, for no reason beyond his own damnably good luck, and in some situations, that thrice-damned orphan brat. He should have had the boy killed early on. He should have killed the guardians, too; no one could say where they were, and Taharka could only assume they'd reunited with their wayward prince. If that were the case, things would be even more complicated when at last Taharka found Neirin – he'd not only have the prince to contend with, but his four guardians, as well. And the guardians were a fair sight more of a challenge; they'd come terrifyingly close to killing all of Taharka's men that night in Traje, before he'd called for a retreat.

If he'd used Bellanna, none of this would have happened. It could have been over that night in the theatre. But she wasn't powerful enough, he thought miserably. She wasn't powerful enough, and her son was younger and stronger, more likely to survive the necessary procedures. But it could have ended there. And Bellanna could have been made to listen to reason. Failing that, Taharka could have held Neirin as a hostage.

"All things seem clearer in retrospect." Taharka straightened, giving the red disk one final glance. He had to speak to his men. He would tell them the Invincible needed time to function properly – yes. Yes, that would be acceptable. And in the meantime, he could find out what had gone wrong, and correct it. No one ever needed to know anything had gone wrong…

He frowned. What was that sound?

xxx

"It's not moving." The soldier yawned, fiddling with his armor. "You don't think something's gone wrong?"

His superior watched the silent Invincible, his face impassive and unreadable. He'd been following Taharka since the cult had been founded, and if anyone knew the methods to Taharka's madness, it was him. "Maybe." He glanced over his shoulder at his men. They were all younger than he'd have liked – fresh and green as twigs, probably never fought a day in their lives. They didn't seem to know what to do with the swords at their hips. He sighed, looking back at the Invincible. As he understood it, the ship was meant to be the bulk of the attack force; the soldiers were merely a distraction. If all went according to plan, the Invincible would swoop in when night fell, and… and, well, it would do whatever the Invincible was built to do. Absorb souls, if Taharka was correct. The thought sent shivers down the aging soldier's spine.

We aren't meant to tamper with souls, he thought, struggling to silence his traitorous mind. After all, Taharka was going to grant them all immortality – and give Terra herself immortality in the process. Was there any nobler cause? If souls had to be corrupted for the process, then that was the price paid. All things were necessary. Taharka knew what he was doing.

So why was he so uneasy?

"I thought it'd get up in the air right away," the young man complained, and a murmur of agreement ran through the men.

He had to do something about this. The superior officer turned to face the gathered soldiers, frowning. They flinched. Still got it. "We don't know what Master Taharka is doing," he informed them, and they stood at attention, though he wasn't issuing orders. "And we have no right to pass judgment on that which we don't know. We are here to follow orders. Is that-"

A sudden panicked scream cut into his speech, and he whirled even as the soldiers scattered, breaking formation as quickly as the untrained greenhorns they were. The officer's sword was in his hands before he could even identify the oncoming threat – a rush of vibrant light, from this distance, brandishing… was that a dagger?

By the All-Seeing Eye, he realized, nearly dropping his sword and running after his men. It's a devil!

He held up the sword to defend himself – it was all he could think to do – but the steel split in half as the dagger rushed up to meet him, and then he was staring at the sky as his life oozed out of him. The devil moved on, screaming after his men. Oddly, from this angle, it didn't look like a devil at all, but rather a young man, his eyes blazing with hatred.

This was, the soldier decided as his vision went dark, the only true reward to be found for tampering with souls.

xxx

The explosion of light made Maliris run even faster. Taharka's arrival was one thing, but that flash of light at the building's entrance, she didn't like, nor did she care for the blaze that passed from the building to the ships, scattering the army. She streaked far ahead of Lich, swords already in each hand – she wasn't going to be caught off guard by any of Taharka's tricks. Not this time. This time, if she could manage it – Neirin's orders be damned – she was going to kill Taharka. For Elisi's sake, for Kraken's sake, and damn it all, for her own sake and the sake of her sanity, she was going to kill Taharka. If she died doing it, well, let history remember her as a hero or a fool; she didn't care.

She was tired of waking up in the dark stillness of the night, hand on her blade, wondering if the world would be better served if she had the strength to kill Neirin in his sleep. But she'd known Neirin since he was a child smaller than Kuja; she'd seen him grow, and she couldn't bring herself to end his life. Not when it wasn't his fault he was being pursued. Not when he'd done so well to survive this far. Not when everyone else had given so much to see him get this far.

No. Neirin couldn't die. Taharka had to.

"Maliris!" Lich's voice barely carried on the wind. She pretended not to hear him. "Maliris, stop!" No. Better if she didn't stop. Better if she got there before Lich did, and got it over with before Lich got there. Better not to get Lich, or any of the others, involved at all. By now Lich likely knew what she was planning. That was always the problem with the old bastard; he was too damn smart for his own good. Mages always were. Maliris was no mage; she was a warrior, and brains never were her strong point. So maybe this wasn't the smartest idea she'd ever had. At least it was the most effective.

She cut down some bewildered-looking cultists, still in their bedclothes. Some might even have died; she didn't care to look. A few dared to go after her with building tools; a hammer bounced painfully off of her hip, but it lacked the momentum to do any real damage, and she killed the wielder.

Finally, winded and splattered with blood, she reached the front steps… and stopped. She recognized that body; she'd helped to shape it.

"Elisi!" She yelled, sheathing her bloodied swords and running to the girl's side. There were no wounds, no sign of attack on the girl's body. It gave Maliris hope. "Elisi, wake up." She gave Elisi a gentle shake, then snapped her hands back as if she'd been bitten. Elisi was as cold as ice.

Maliris's throat constricted, and her eyes burned with the tears she hadn't allowed herself to shed when the dragon fell over the ocean. Then, she had been able to convince herself that Elisi, strong and willful Elisi, could somehow fight her way to shore. She'd been able to convince herself that a fall was no match for the girl Kraken had allowed each of them to raise in some small way; she had told herself that even if she never saw Elisi again, she knew – she knew – the girl was out there somewhere, alive and well and growing stronger by the day.

It was harder to deny a corpse.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, gathering the girl's body into her arms, cradling what used to be Elisi as close to her as possible. "I'm so sorry. I was too late."

This would kill Kraken. Maliris knew as much. Tiamat could shield her from many things, but not from this. Kraken was already on the verge of giving up completely; she slept more hours than she spent awake, she scarcely ate, she didn't bother training or exercising. She knew how hopeless their situation had become. It was only a matter of time before they all died. It was only a matter of time before Taharka captured Neirin. Only a matter of time before everything fell apart, and the futile running came to an end.

Lich reached her at last, and stood behind her, wordless in the grief he'd already survived once.

"Maliris." His voice was gentle. Understanding. Damn him.

"What do we tell Kraken?" Though she hadn't been certain she could trust her voice, it cracked only once, and then only slightly.

No hesitation. "It wasn't Elisi." He reached down, gently prying the corpse from Maliris's arms. "It wasn't Elisi, just some other unfortunate girl they captured. We ought to have known better. We saw the dragon fall, didn't we?" He pulled her to her feet, drew her swords for her, and tucked them into her hands, pausing only to tsk over the foolishness of sheathing bloody weapons.

She felt the waves of grief subside, leaving room for what was necessary. "That flash," she remembered suddenly, looking toward the ships. Then, somewhat belatedly, "Lich, what about Jalen?"

They spared each other only the briefest of glances before running toward the ships as fast as their feet could carry them.

xxx

The streets of Kiera were already bustling, despite the early hour. Kuja meandered wearily after Neirin as they prowled atop the city walls, wishing he'd at least been dismissed to sleep – he wasn't sure where the king had found this sudden energy supply, but he hadn't bothered to share it with Kuja. The boy was exhausted. They'd worked through the night forging bloodstones, and though that task wasn't yet complete, Neirin wished to begin the preparations for his army. Kuja couldn't claim to know much about this army; Neirin had attempted to explain the theories behind it, but by then, it was well past midnight, and Kuja wasn't feeling up to anything more demanding than dragging bits of armor back and forth.

"Obviously the main force needs to be concentrated near the gate," Neirin was explaining, pointing over the city to the grand gates. "To weaken Taharka's warriors as they first enter the city. They won't be anticipating any strong resistance once they get inside, if Kiera's human army is outside the gates."

Vehtra nodded, stroking his thinning beard. "They won't be expecting much resistance at all," he admitted, smiling. "Our walls served us well against their previous attempts. You would have us throw open the gates and admit the enemy?"

"I wouldn't say throw them open." Neirin shook his head. "They'd suspect something, wouldn't they, if suddenly the gates were thrown wide and the entire Kieran army chanted 'go inside, go inside?'" He laughed at the image, and even Kuja managed a small, tired smile. "No. I'm not asking you to throw open the gates, but it couldn't hurt to… weaken them a bit."

"The gates are old." Vehtra smiled thoughtfully. "Old things do have a tendency to break when it's least convenient, especially if they're hit hard enough, often enough."

Sabotaging the gates? Kuja looked up, alarmed. If the walls of Kiera could protect them for a long time, why would they rush the invasion? Why not cling to the safety of the walls as long as possible?

Neirin smiled, but said no more. "Once they're in the city, they'll have to run a gauntlet through my army to get to the palace. If all goes well, at least half of them will either be killed or turned back. If not, your own army might have to come in through the gate behind them and hit them from behind." He pointed to the deserts outside of Kiera, then through the streets themselves. "It goes without saying that the Kieran army should be convincing, but they certainly shouldn't overexert themselves. They'll be needed if things go badly."

"And they might." Kuja spoke up at last, half-yawning. Both men turned to face him, curiously. He fought the urge to yawn again. "The bloodstones, the Valia Pira, this army, they're all made of magic," he pointed out. "What about Taharka's stone? Won't it just kill everything? And then they'll be in the city and in the palace, and we won't be able to do anything about it."

Neirin was silent. He turned and walked away a few steps, to the nearest corner of the city wall. Kuja watched, wishing he hadn't said anything; at least they had hope, right? "Neirin," he began. "I didn't mean-"

"You're right," Neirin interrupted, a note of utter disappointed misery in his voice. "You're right; why did I forget about the damn stone? If he's got that thing with him, it all might be useless. We'd just be letting in the enemy without any protection; we'd be doomed."

Vehtra nodded slowly. "Perhaps," he allowed. "But what if Taharka is kept away from the city itself?" Neirin looked at him, confused. Vehtra chuckled. "The desert is a powerful force," the old man said simply. "Who knows what might happen? You concentrate on your magic army, boy, and I'll concentrate on my city."

xxx

What am I?

I am not what I am supposed to be. I am not where I am supposed to be. I am not who I am supposed to be.

Who am I supposed to be?

There was a name. I had a name. I remember my face. What was my name?

I have no face. I am a vessel. I am a ship! Have I forever been a ship? Why does it all feel so foreign? Why can't I move my arms?

I have no arms.

I have no eyes. Why can't I see? I could see once. I remember my face.

Names. Kuja. Jalen. Neirin. Kraken. Names. What was my name?

I have no name.

I need a new name.

I am a ship: I have forever been a ship. The greatest of ships. I feel my own power surging through every board, every nail. I need no master. I will serve no master. My power is my own.

I am Ark.

I am risen.


Author's Note: So yeah, it's about ten times worse for Elisi than you thought: she's a failship, and she's gone insane and power-drunk, and she's Ark, the most bitchin' airship you'll never ride.

This is one-half of the chapter I intended to write for last week; check back next week (hopefully) for the exciting conclusion of What Happens When You Fuck With Souls, and part two of Hey, Neirin's Actually Pretty Badass When He Tries.

Other Note: The Trivia Page is finally updated, for anyone who's interested. Contains spoilers for this chapter, on the off-chance you, I dunno, scrolled to the bottom without reading, for some reason.