I released two chapters today, chapters 23 and 24, make sure you don't miss either!
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Yensa Sandsea
Year 706 of the Old Valendian Calendar
It wasn't water. That became very apparent when Balthier hit it. It was liquid, certainly, but hot and rough and dry in his mouth. Balthier went under the sand's surface, disappearing into the dark world beneath the waves. He could barely tell which way was up, and the thick fluid seemed to pull him down, farther and farther from air and light and sound. With much kicking and thrashing, he managed to break through the surface, back into the hot desert air. He coughed, trying to clear the slick liquid sand from his mouth and catch a breath of much needed oxygen. For several moments, Balthier just sat there treading water, or whatever it was, pulling air into his aching lungs.
Balthier took a moment to catch his bearings. He spotted both Fran and Ashe in the water nearby; they looked unharmed, if a little dazed. Ashe was still hacking her lungs out, barely staying afloat for the violence of her coughing. Pieces of the collapsed oil rig floated nearby among many such wrecks; these rigs had been dropping hunks into the sandsea for many years. Looking up, Balthier could just barely see the silhouette of someone leaned over the edge of the bridge that had once connected to the oil rig. The noonday sun backed the figure, reducing it to a featureless back shape. Two more forms peaked over the edge, accounting for the rest of their group. Vossler, Vaan, and Penelo were still safe atop the oil rigs, while Balthier, Fran, and Ashe floated in the sandsea below. Balthier could only imagine how distraught Vossler must be, with the princess so far away from him.
"Fran! Ashe!" Balthier called out. "Is everyone…" Balthier broke off in another coughing fit. "Are you both alright?"
Ashe nodded, finally ceasing her coughing. Fran didn't reply, but she looked fine. Balthier swam over to them, then scanned the sandsea for any semblance of solid ground. After a few moments searching, he spotted it: a secondary platform ringed around the base of the nearest oil rig, just above the sandsea's lapping waves.
"Over there." Balthier pointed towards the rig. "That seems like out best bet."
"We should hurry," Fran said. She stared down into the liquid sand suspending them. "I sense something nearby."
Well, that's not ominous at all, Balthier thought.
"Come on, then," he said aloud. "Let's move."
The three of them climbed out of the rippling sand and up onto the rig's platform. Balthier guessed this level of the rig's system was built for more direct managing of the drill head. It was in even worse condition than up above, the pathways corroded by myst-laden sand waves; at least they were shaded from the sun by the rig's upper level. He would never have admitted it, but Balthier was glad to be on solid ground again; swimming had never been his favorite sport. The slick liquid sand slipped right off their clothing, so the three travelers were perfectly dry as they hauled themselves onto safe land.
"I… can't believe we survived that," Ashe said, still gasping for breath She stared up at the bridge they had fallen from. "How are we going to get back up there?"
"I imagine there's some stairway or another that leads back up," Balthier said. "Well then, let's get moving." He turned to leave, but stopped as he noticed Fran. She knelt on the ground, breathing heavily with one hand over her chest. "Fran, are you alright?" Balthier asked, walking over to her.
"The myst is… thicker here," she replied.
"Will you be okay?" Balthier asked. The exact nature of the Viera's link with the myst was beyond his knowledge, so he had no idea how serious this was.
Fran nodded. "Yes, it's… better up here, above the surface."
"Can you move?" Balthier asked. Fran rose rather unsteadily to her feet, stared over the waves for a few moments, then turned to Balthier. She nodded.
"Then," Balthier said, "let's move."
…
"Are you sure there'll be stairs?" Ashe asked. Balthier let out a sigh at that.
"It hasn't been that long, Ashe," he replied. "And there has to be something somewhere. How else would people get down here? Besides falling, of course."
"I suppose so," Ashe replied. "But we've been down here so long… Vossler will be worried. Is there any way can go faster?"
Balthier sighed again, fixing his gaze on the rippling surface of the sandsea a just a few feet away instead of Ashe's pleading face.
"Trust me, Ashe. I want to get back up there just as much as you do. If I could speed up this search in any way, I would." Balthier let his gaze wander from the water's surface to scan the surrounding rigs. These surface-level platform ran around most of them, though several of them were in too poor condition to walk on.
"I know," Ashe said with a sigh. "I'm-"
"Wait," Balthier cut her off. He walked up to the platform's railings, and, shading his eyes from the sun, stared over at the next rig along. What he was make him smile in satisfaction. "Other there." He pointed. "See that?"
Ashe came up beside him as a gust of wind huffed over the sea's surface. The arid breeze lifted Ashe's golden-blond hair, making it dance around her face.
"Oh!" she said after staring a few moments. "Stairs!"
Sure enough, a spiral staircase curled around the rig's central column like a vine crawling up a tree trunk. It wound up and up, all the way to the upper walkways.
"From there, I'll bet finding Vossler and the kids will be easy," Balthier said, still feeling very gratified. The last thing he wanted was for Vossler to come down there and rescue him. That would be most humiliating.
"Come on, Fran!" Balthier called. His Viera partner was standing a little ways off, staring over the waves. She had been acting very odd since their dip in the sea. "Fran, are you alright?" Balthier said when she didn't respond.
"Something's coming," Fran said.
"What do you mean?" Balthier asked, narrowing his eyes.
"The myst… surges," she replied. "It is something… very in tune with it."
Balthier refrained from asking what 'in tune' with the myst meant; he knew that, as frustrating as it was, Fran never gave such questions a clear answer.
"Should we get out of here?" Balthier asked. Even if he couldn't understand the science of the matter, he trusted Fran's judgement.
"Yes," Fran replied, nodding. "We should-"
Fran broke off as something slammed into the side of the platform, sending Balthier, Ashe, and Fran flying backward in a spray of liquid sand. Balthier skidded to a halt on the metal floor. He wiped sand from his eyes with one hand and yanked his rifle out with the other. He had a feeling he'd be needing it.
Balthier leapt back to his feet, weapon at the ready. The cloud of sand cleared, and, crouched half out of the sea on top of the wrecked remains of the railings was a massive fish-like creature, the size of a twin bed. Its body was covered in plate-like scales of dull yellow-grey, jointed like armor. Over the fish's head were several small, beady eyes, and its wide mouth lolled open, revealing rows of glittering teeth. The creature hung there a few moments, letting out low moaning sounds, then slid back into the sandsea with a tremendous splash. For a moment, all was still.
"What… What was that?" Ashe said. She had her sword out and at the ready, held in a valiant fighting pose, though fear gleamed in her eyes.
"I don't know," Fran said, "but I think it's been following us."
"And with it prowling below, crossing over the sea won't be a good idea," Balthier said, eyeing the bridge they'd cross to reach the rig with the stairway. The bridge lay just barely above the surface, a long, thin, exposed pathway.
"What will we do?" Ashe asked.
Balthier sighed, pondering their situation. "I'm not sure," he said at last. "Maybe-"
Another impact cut him off. The massive fish-creature surged out of the waves again, this time flying entire out of the water and up onto the platform. Balthier, Fran, and Ashe all dived out of the way. Balthier couldn't believe the thing would beach itself just to get at them. However, the fish seemed to move around with ease, pushing itself along with its long, aquamarine fins, sliding over the ground like a giant snake. The massive thing dived at the stunned princess, but Ashe managed to dodge it. She leapt to the side, then with a cry thrust her sword into a joint in the creature's armor. Her sword rebounded off what should have been a soft spot, and Ashe jerked back. Before she could move, the fish swung its tail, swatting her like a fly. Ashe hit the rig's central column and dropped the ground, her sword clattering away. The fish rounded on the incapacitated princess, its jaws working hungrily. Balthier, with his rifle already out, launched three shots at the creature, and Fran release a volley of arrows. Both bullets and arrows glanced off its armor-like planting; the fish didn't even notice, and lunged towards Ashe, jaws wide. Not stopping to think because he knew he'd change his mind, Balthier dove between Ashe and the great fish.
Balthier held out his rifle, a hand on each end, to block the fish's impact. It closed its maw around Balthier's weapon, the force of the collision throwing them both backward. Balthier planted his feet on the ground, skidding them to a halt before they crashed into Ashe. Balthier vaguely heard the princess gasp, and the hustle as Fran dragged her away, but his attention was centered on holding the massive fish back. The creature's jaws were fastened securely around his rifle, its many eyes staring out at him like shiny black marbles set in clay. The fish let out a low moan, its slathering jaws working as it shoved harder. Balthier knew if the fish actually let go and thrust its full force at him, he would be finished, but even if it didn't, Balthier couldn't hold it back much longer; the great fish was much stronger than he, and the moment it got through he would be dinner. Balthier's mind raced for some solution, but he couldn't think of any. The fish pushed harder, its growl intensifying. Balthier's bad arm surged with pain, threatening to give way, and he knew the end was near…
Thump-thump. Something throbbed. A pulse of energy, a dark, rippling force, pounding in Balthier's chest like a second heartbeat, and a pain rippled through the back of his head. He recognized the feeling, though he hadn't felt it for a decade: a power long caged away. Its sudden presence took Balthier's breath away and made his eyes widen. He'd thought it was gone, but there it was, burning deep within him like it always had. The image flashed in Balthier's mind, that stormy night in Draklor ten years ago- the man brought his sword down, a blast of power sent him flying back… Couldn't Balthier do the same thing to this fish? How to make his power do what he wanted was an art that had long eluded him, but now Balthier could feel it shoving on its prison walls, just itching to burst out and wreak havoc. All he had to do was release his grip, swing open the cage he'd spent so many years building.
Do you want to survive to stop your father's nethicite or not?
The thoughts pushed into Balthier's mind almost without his consent. The fish shoved harder, and he knew he had to decided here and now. Balthier closed his eyes, ignore the losing fight outside and focusing on the war he fought within. All he had to do was let go. That thought was a terrifying one, and not without reason, but Balthier couldn't just let it all end here…
An incredible force surged outward. Balthier felt it rushing through his body, coursing through every muscle. The force blew him backward, away from the creature, and he crashed into the wall so hard it knocked the wind out of him. The old brick walls of Draklor Laboratories… No, it was the oil rig's central column. As he slid the ground, Balthier couldn't force his eyes open, couldn't suck in air… He was blind to everything but the energy that surged through his whole body, free after so long restrained. Balthier didn't feel like a grown man anymore- he was a terrified twelve-year-old boy, Ffamran, in the dark hallways of Draklor, helpless against that force he knew was a part of him, helpless to stop it. That thief lay just a few yards away, blood running down his shoulders, a victim of Ffamran's uncontrollable power. The seething, airless silence claimed him, and he slipped into a horrible darkness where all that existed was him and that terrifying power, one in the same, spinning in the blackness forever and ever…
"Balthier!"
Was that his father's voice? No, his father would have called him Ffamran, and it had been years since Ffamran's father had sounded that worried about anything but his nethicite.
"Oh, don't worry about him, Highness. I'm sure he'll be just fine," came a second voice, hard and gruff.
"But Vossler, he's hurt!" the first voice came again, a sweet, female voice. "And… Oh, no! I don't think he's breathing!"
Not breathing? Those words made Balthier aware of a desperate need of oxygen. Through a wall of darkness and pain, he tried to suck in a breath, but the air clogged in his chest full of static and dancing forces, and all he could manage was a feeble, choking cough.
"I think he's waking up!" the first voice said again. "Fran, hurry! Can't you help him?"
"Oh, give him a moment, Highness," the second voice said. "He's the one who got knocked out in the first place."
"Vossler, how can you say that? He saved me!"
"And you'd have gotten eaten anyway if I hadn't showed up."
Balthier finally managed to choke in a lungful of air. With that glorious flood of oxygen came a multitude of other feelings: the hot, dry, desert air, the hard metal ground under him, the sound of sand-waves rippling.
"Oh…" Balthier couldn't hold back a groan as he forced his eyes open. The first thing he saw was Princess Ashe's face staring down at him, blue eyes wide. Not a vivid blue, but deep and full of life. Balthier raised a hand to his head, with was throbbing.
"Ashe? What... happened?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Balthier remembered. His power… He'd tried, but…
"I... I'm not really sure," Ashe replied. "That fish slammed into you, I think. It knocked me and Fran over with its tail, so I didn't really see. More came up out of the water… I'm not sure how many there were, really. Oh, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, princess, don't worry," Balthier said, straining to sit up. Three more of those giant fish creatures lay around in various states of disrepair. One had a massive sword with a wide, hefty blade protruding from the base of its neck. That was Vossler's sword. Then…
"Welcome back to the land of the living."
Balthier turned to see Vossler kneeling on the ground just a few feet away. Fran crouched next to him, blasting one of his arms with her healing magic. His arm was bloody and mangled, not a pretty sight; Balthier could only assume one of those creatures got it in its mouth.
"What…? What are you doing here?"
"A lot more good that you are," Vossler replied. Pain twisted his face, but it didn't mar his smugness.
"Vossler, Vaan and Penelo showed up," Ashe said. Balthier spotted the two teenagers stood a little ways off, Vaan trying to clean off his sword and Penelo trying not to look at the gory sights all around. "They came down those stairs you saw, and crossed that bridge even with all those fish around," Ashe continued. "Vossler took down two of them. But…" She glanced back at Vossler, staring with concern at his wounded arm. "You are alright, aren't you?"
"Yes, I'll be fine, Highness," Vossler said. He stood abruptly, jerking his arm from Fran's grasp. It was still covered in blood but didn't seem to still be bleeding.
"I'm not done yet," Fran said, standing also.
"Finish back up top," Vossler said, wrenching his sword from the great fish's neck. He plunged the bloodied blade into the sheath on his back. "We have to leave before more of those things show up." He turned to Balthier. "You think you can walk, pirate?"
"Yes," Balthier replied, clenching his teeth and fighting to hold back several bitter comments directed at Vossler. The knight had saved all their lives, and yet that bothered Balthier to no end. He pulled himself back to his feet, trying and failing not to wince and the pain rushing all through his body. Every muscle tensed against his command, and he could feel that static-like energy rippling through him, thrumming in and out like a second heartbeat. He did his best to ignore it.
"Here." Vossler tossed Balthier's rifle at him, which he caught with a scowl. "Now come on, let's hurry up. It's almost hospitable up there compared to down here."
Vossler started off towards the bridge, Ashe close behind. Vaan, Penelo and Fran followed them, leaving Balthier to take up the rear. Too aching to complain, he followed along. As they passed over the bridge, Balthier, in the back, caught a glimpse of a fourth dead fish, floating in the sandsea just offshore; smoke rose from it, and its form was twisted from the force of a blast. Balthier clenched his fists, trying to hold in another eruption like the one that killed that creature, to hold back that living, writhing power that had gotten a taste of freedom and was hungry for more.
…
The sun set in a glorious display, painting the seas of Jagd Yensa with the richest golden hues as the party set up camp for the night. They still hadn't reached the end of the network of rigs, but land was now visible on the horizon, and Vossler said he thought they'd reach it the next day. Penelo sat on the ground, leaning against their heap of backpacks, watching the sun sink beneath the distant cliffs beyond the sandsea. That was their destination. Penelo couldn't believe how far she'd come from home, or how much farther there was left to go. She glanced down at the rusty metal pole she'd picked up, which she held in her hands. It worked great as a dancing staff and walking stick, but she wondered it, and she, hadn't done that well against the vicious creatures of Jagd Yensa. The battle against those giant fish had really gotten her wondering if she, the little Rabanastran orphan girl, was really cut out for a journey like this.
Glancing up, Penelo spotted Vaan talking with Balthier and Vossler at the platform's edge, or rather, he was talking to both Balthier and Vossler separately while trying to get them into a conversation together. Vossler said something, then turned and walked off, disappearing behind the rig's central column. Vaan called something after him, then turned back to Balthier with a shrug. Penelo smiled; she remembered the day before Vaan broke into the palace. She'd told him it was a bad idea and refused his offer to come along. She'd sat with the other orphans that night in Lowtown, terrified for her brother. Even though Vaan was older than her, Penelo had always felt it was her responsibility to take care of him; she was glad to see how much he'd mature already since that night. Although, his terribly anger at Archadia had surprised her. She knew Vaan had been very close to Reks; he had been Penelo's adopted brother just like Vaan, but he was Vaan's blood brother, all he had left. She knew Vaan hated the Empire, but she hoped he'd grow beyond it eventually. If this journey was what he needed, Penelo would be there for him, every step of the way.
With a sigh, Penelo turned and watched as Fran worked with the fire just a few feet away from her. Fran arranged several dry sticks along with some larger ones, than held her hands out over the fire. Penelo guessed she was using her fire magic to light it. A red glow spread over the tinder, and a few sparks fluttered away. A sudden pressure in her temples surprised Penelo, and she raised a hand to her forehead with a gasp. The feeling was surprising but not unpleasant. Fran glanced up from the fire, the glow around her hands dying away. She fixed her taciturn gaze on Penelo, cocking her head.
"Are you alright?" Fran asked, in that cold, emotionless voice of hers.
"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm fine," Penelo said with a nervous chuckle. "Just a headache."
Fran stared at Penelo a moment longer, then held out her hands again, resuming her spell over the kindling. That weird pressure returned to Penelo's head, and she tried hard not to grimace or groan. Evidently, not hard enough; Fran stopped her magic, turning her cold gaze back to Penelo.
"You can feel that?" she asked.
"Feel… what?" Penelo asked.
"That spell," Fran said. "You could feel it?"
"Oh, it was just a headache," Penelo said. "I'm sure it's just a coincidence." Fran's unreadable gaze remained fixed on Penelo. "What is it, Fran?" she said. "Is something wrong?"
"Can you feel this?" Fran held up one hand. The flicker of her fire spell returned, the red glow around her finger tips brighter than before. That odd sensation returned, and Penelo sucked in a breath, raising her hand back to her head.
"Yeah, I… I guess so," she said, suddenly worried. "But…. what does it mean?"
"It may be you can feel the myst's flow," Fran said, her spell dying away. "And if you can feel the flow, you may direct it."
"Direct…?" Penelo frowned, then realization dawned on her. "You mean… You think… I can use magic?"
"Perhaps," Fran said. She held her hands out over the tinder again, and this time Penelo ignored the weird feeling when her magic started.
"I've never tried before," Penelo said. "I wouldn't know where to start!"
"You might learn," Fran said, not looking up from the fire.
"Could… Could you teach me?" Penelo asked. She knew it was a long shot, asking the quiet, reclusive Viera for such an involved task, but she could try. To be able to use magic, the ancient arts that had sustained Ivalice for centuries, would be a revolutionary talent.
Fran was silent. The sticks caught under her fire spell, bursting into flames, and she pulled her hands away. She crouched there, cool brown eyes staring into the fire, still as a statue.
"If you are willing to learn," Fran said at last, still not looking up.
"Oh, yes, please!" Penelo said, leaning forward. "When can we start?"
"As soon as you'd like," Fran replied.
"Can we start now?"
"If you'd like," Fran replied.
"Oh, yes!" Penelo said, a rush of nervous excitement electrifying her every nerve. Fran nodded, as unmoved as ever.
"Magic comes in two varieties," she began. "Black uses elemental spells for combat, and white uses the myst's powers for healing. I find most humans can use only one or the other. Before you may learn, we must know which kind you can use."
"Okay," Penelo said, trying to swallow her nervousness and lean into her excitement. This would change everything for her and their party. She glanced up at Vaan, who still chatted with Balthier at the platform's edge; she couldn't wait to show him what she could do.
…
Ashe sat near the platform's edge, on the opposite side of the central column from the rest of the group, watching the glorious sunset. The sun's last rays shot from behind distant mountains, red as the glow of dying embers. The sky was already fading from brilliant sunset hues to midnight black, and the princess knew she'd have to turn in soon. After such an eventful day and so many near-brushes with death, she wanted some time to think, and no better place presented itself than here; Ashe was content to relax in this quiet place, alone with the last light of day, with no one relying on her, no one depending on her being the strong, noble leader she was born to be.
"Highness. There you are."
Ashe turned at the sound of Vossler's voice; he approached from their campsite.
"Vossler," Ashe said. "I'll come back soon; I just… wanted a moment to breath."
Vossler nodded, coming up to stand behind her. After several silent moments, he sat down next to her, eyes fixed on the fading sunset.
"Vossler," Ashe said, tentatively, "can I ask you something?"
"Anything, Highness," he said, turning from the sunset to meet her gaze.
"Why don't you trust Balthier?" she said.
Vossler let out a sigh, tipping his head back towards the sky, where the first stars were peeking out. After a few moments, he turned back to Ashe.
"You're not the first resistance member who's thought to ask mercenaries for help, Highness," Vossler said. "I've met his type before. Men like him care for only one thing: themselves. I just want you to be careful, Highness; people can hide their true colors a lot easier than you'd think."
"But Balthier saved my life!" Ashe said. "Twice, and at great risk to his own! How could you possibly call that selfish?"
Vossler let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. "Princess, you're too naïve. People you've trusted for years can betray you, much less those you've known for a few days."
"Balthier could have died saving me," Ashe said. "Both today, and on the Leviathan. How could he stand to gain from that?"
"Today? Maybe he could've died, but he certainly didn't save you," Vossler said. "When it came down to it, he couldn't do anything. How can trust someone like that?"
"But he's helping us now, even though we're barely paying him anything. I'm not that naïve, Vossler; I've seen what evil men can do. I lost my husband, and my father to Archadia. But Balthier's not like that! I know we haven't known him all that long, but… for what it's worth, I trust him. He's… he's a good man."
Vossler's jaw tightened, and he glanced away from the princess. After a few moments, he turned back with a sigh.
"Highness, people don't come in black and white, just shades of grey. We all have hidden agendas; why do you think Balthier came with us? Purely because of how benevolent he is? No, there's more to it than that, and until I know what that is, I won't trust that pirate as far as I can throw him. You should keep your distance from him, Highness. I don't want you getting hurt. And…" Vossler's face grew harder as he spoke, and finally he trailed off with a sigh. He turned his face from the princess and stared down into the sandsea far below, eyes smoldering with anger and frustration.
"And?" Ashe said. "What is it, Vossler?"
Vossler let out a bitter chuckle, tipping his head up to the sky, still not looking Ashe in the face.
"Oh, Highness, you don't know, and that's the point," he said, so quiet Ashe could barely hear. She frowned in confusion.
"What? Vossler, what do you mean?" she said.
Vossler sighed and shook his head. "Just be careful around him, Highness. The man has no respect for you or your position. He doesn't even use your title."
"I don't mind that at all," Ashe said. "Balthier treats me like an equal. Not a haughty noble or a political pawn - just a person. I like it when he calls me Ashe. I wish you'd call me Ashe."
Those words seemed to have a different effect than Ashe had anticipated. Vossler frowned, jaw and brow hardening. He stared off into the distance for a few moments, then stood.
"I'm turning in. You should get some sleep, too." Then he turned and walked off towards the campsite.
"Vossler-" Ashe broke off when she saw he wasn't stopping. She couldn't fathom why that had made Vossler so angry. She understood he wanted to protect her; Vossler had always been like her big brother. But Balthier obviously wasn't a threat. And what did he mean, she didn't know? After a few moments watching her guardian's retreating back, Ashe stood with a sigh. It was late, and she needed rest. Perhaps everything would be clearer in the morning.
…
Sleeping was impossible. Every time Balthier closed his eyes, all he could see was that night at Draklor ten years ago, the face of the man he'd killed. Balthier knew just how dangerous his power could be, and now it was alive and awake. It no longer restricted his breathing or tried to force its way out, but it was there, and Balthier couldn't deny it. He lay in his sleeping bag among the others of his party, eyes closed, wrestling with those thoughts while vainly seeking sleep. And what good had it done? Only put everyone in danger, just like always. He wasn't there when Ashe needed him, when they all needed him. How was he never there when it mattered? After what must have been hours, Balthier couldn't take it anymore. He sat up, rubbing his face with his hands in an attempt to clear away the haze of sleep. The desert air had taken on a nighttime chill in stark contrast with the heat of the day. Overhead, the sky stretched like a sea of ink, in it floating pinpricks purest light. It was so still, so peaceful… Nothing like the chaos he felt within.
Balthier pulled his gaze from the heavens and scanned their campsite. The fire had died down to a few embers, their warm glow painting the sleeping forms of his traveling companions with crimson hues. Everyone was asleep, and rightly so. It had been a rather eventful day, though not as bad as it could have been. All thanks to Vossler, Balthier noted with frustration. Balthier could have loved to get a good night's rest himself; it was only that tormenting ebb and flow deep within that kept him awake, and the terrible memory of what it was capable of.
Balthier shook his head with a sigh, then crawled from his sleeping bag and stood. He just needed a breath of cold air to clear his head, then he'd be fine. He left the ring of sleeping travelers around the fire and walked over to the guardrails, watching the moon's reflection on the sand waves far below. Still, in his mind's eye, all he could see was the terrible effect of his power, that man, dead against the wall, blood running down his shoulders…
Balthier sucked in a gasp as another ripple of power shook his body. It thrummed in his chest and shivered down his arms, and he felt that electric force playing over the palms of his hands. The scene played out in his mind again and again… In Draklor, down below in the sandsea- that power surged outward, a force eager and able to destroy whatever lay in its path. Balthier clenched his jaw, closed his eyes, and pulled in a breath of cold air, trying to collect himself.
Nethicite. He was here for a reason, and that was it. He needed to focus on that, his goal. To fix his mistakes two years before. Balthier needed to know what nethicite was, and more importantly he needed to make sure the Archadian Empire didn't get a hold of it. They already had two shards, and he needed to keep an eye on this third. He needed to get a look at it and find out what it was, how it worked, and more importantly, how to stop it. That was why he was here with two maniacal resistance members, two Rabanastran orphans, and a Viera who seemed suddenly uninterested in sharing important information with him. Balthier turned from the sandsea to stared over his motley crew. It occurred to him that only Fran among them knew anything about the nethicite; he'd said nothing about his past to anyone else and had no intention to. He felt a little guilty not telling Ashe what she was getting into with that stone, but her only intent was to prove her birthright with it, not use its powers. If she got out of her depth, he'd have to tell her at least the details on nethicite, if not his connection with it. Until then, he was perfectly content to tag along and complete his business without their knowledge or intervention.
I guess Vossler was right, Balthier thought with a wry smile. I do have an ulterior motive after all.
Another shock of power jolted through Balthier's body, shattering his thoughts. He clenched his fists against the electric feeling dancing over them. This sort of shockwave had always followed such outbursts when he was a kid, and they ceased after a short time. As soon as it was over, a little force of will would shove those hated powers back in their cage, Balthier was sure. But did he want that? His powers could be a great assistance on his mission, if he could just learn to control them. But he'd tried that for years as a kid, with no success. How hard would it be? And how many mistakes would there be along the way? Balthier let his gaze wander to his sleeping companions once more. Knowing what his power could do, could he risk the consequences for them? Even if he didn't trust them all, even if they didn't all trust him, he didn't want to see them hurt. He studied each of their peaceful faces in turn; Fran, Vaan, Penelo, Ashe…
Where was Vossler? His sleeping bag was empty, thrown aside in a heap. Balthier narrowed his eyes. Where could he be?
All else forgotten, Balthier walked over to Vossler's bag and knelt beside it. It was untidy, yes, but it didn't look like a struggle had taken place; Balthier banished the image of some stealthy feline creature sneaking into the campsite and slipping out with fresh prey. Vossler's sword was gone, too, he noted; so the man had gone somewhere of his own free will. But where? And why?
"What are you doing, pirate?" Vossler's gruff voice interrupted Balthier's deductions. He looked up to see Vossler approaching from the next rig along, breaking into a jog as he approached the campsite.
"What am I doing?" Balthier said, rising to face Vossler. "What are you doing? Where have you been?"
"I… I thought I heard something," Vossler replied. "I was just checking. There're a lot of unfriendly creatures in Jagd Yensa, you know."
"I suppose that makes sense," Balthier said. It did make sense, but something about the way Vossler said it made him wary.
"And how about you, pirate?" Vossler asked, narrowing his eyes. "What are you doing up?"
"Looking for you," Balthier replied, which wasn't entirely untrue.
"Oh, sure," Vossler said, rolling his eyes. "And how did you know I was gone?"
"I couldn't sleep," Balthier said through clenched teeth. "I'm sure even you've had a sleepless night sometime in your life."
"You got plenty of sleep of the battlefield today," Vossler replied.
Balthier heaved a sigh. This was really starting to get to him. "If I apologize, will you drop it?"
"Are you going to?" Vossler asked.
"No," Balthier replied after a moment's consideration; he'd been humiliated enough that day.
Vossler just chuckled. He stooped to straighten out his sleeping bag, then plopped into it. Balthier decided to ignore Vossler and moved back over to his own sleeping bag, careful not to step on any of the other sleepers and slipped into it.
"It is good to know underneath that polished exterior you're just another kid," Vossler said, still sitting up in his sleeping bag.
"Excuse me?" Balthier snapped his gaze to Vossler.
"I know you type, pirate," Vossler continued. "An aimless, self-serving adventure seeker. You stumbled over some grand expedition and decided it was a great idea to get involved, even though you've got no clue why you're really here. I've delt with you before, and I've never failed yet."
"That is not true," Balthier replied.
"So what?" Vossler said, his smug, superior air switching instantly to one of hostility. "You spied a pretty lady and figured this quest would be a good chance to make a personal acquaintance?"
"Now that really is ridiculous," Balthier said with a sigh. "This has nothing to do the princess."
"Then what?" Vossler said, his glare hardening. "If you've got another reason, give it to me."
"Well…" Balthier floundered for a moment. This was where he usually whipped out some witty remark and walk away triumphant. But he couldn't tell Vossler what he really wanted with the nethicite. And honestly, was Vossler that far off? Balthier wanted to fix his failures, but was this the best way to do it? What other way was there?
"That's what I thought," Vossler said when Balthier didn't reply. He crashed down into his sleeping bag without another word. Balthier was too tired to object, so he plopped back into his own, staring up at the starry night sky, battling with those doubts for a long time before finally managing to fall asleep. When he did, his dreams were the same ones that had plagued him for ten years: that night at Draklor, the storm raging outside, and that storm raging inside, waiting to leap out and prove its terrible potential.