When hundreds of balls of sand rose from the surface of the desert and began chasing him, Kuja had to admit that he probably should have listened when his brother growled at him to keep away.
Kuja ducked and rolled, but the missiles homed in on him and disintegrated upon impact, showering him with sun-blasted specks. He yelped and threw his arms over his head. But there was no escape. Though Sandsa lacked a corporeal body in this state, each grain of sand was an extra eye to find a target and an extra weapon to wield on the Rforine.
Leaf-studded vines grew down Kuja’s arms, anchoring themselves to his skin and lengthening until he could whip them around. He slashed furiously with the fibrous cords, cutting down several of the balls as they came for him, but he wasn’t fast enough to get them all. He cried out when one hit him square in the face.
‘This isn’t funny, Sandsa!’ he shouted.
Go away! the Desine howled. I don’t want to talk about her!
Kuja scowled. ‘I’m not here to make you to talk about Callista, I just need you to be my brother — you haven’t taken your human form in years!’
Because doing that worked out so well for me before? Sandsa said acidly.
A tornado bore down on Kuja, roaring and twisting, fed by the endless sands on this desert world but never wholly satisfied. Now it craved a different food source.
Kuja opened his mouth to plead for mercy and instead swallowed a mouthful of grit.
Sandsa’s voice cut through the shrieking winds. I won’t let myself become vulnerable again, Kuja, I won’t! Living as a mortal cost me everything!
‘Are you going to keep attacking me?’ Kuja gasped as his knees hit the ground.
What else will make you go away?
‘Just talk to me, Sandsa!’
We are done talking!
Beneath Kuja the sand roiled, stirred by its master’s anger, preparing to bury the Rforine. But Kuja was not giving up. Not yet. He sent roots scurrying through the sand, trying to temper the attack, trying to defend instead of antagonise, but within seconds the roots cried out as they blistered and burned.
‘Fine,’ Kuja muttered. ‘Since violence is the only language you can speak…’
He transformed into a pile of leaves which then exploded upwards, escaping the grip of the sand. Once he was high enough off the ground, Kuja became a raging storm of branches, vines, leaves and even stones, beating back the tornado. Cowed, it retreated, unwilling to engage a god who could fill it with foreign, unwanted debris.
Then, just as Kuja had feared he would, the Desine abandoned his usual powers and reached for something else.
Sandsa crafted weapons from Kuja’s domain, green fragments that screeched out apologies, powerless to fight a desert god who somehow commanded more than simple sand, who could wield fire and water and tundra and anything else should he choose to. Kuja sensed that Sandsa only used these powers when he was furious, when he wanted to make a point of his superiority, and was glad of this — if Sandsa practiced more often, he might be able to turn every rainforest in Kuja’s domain against him out of spite.
The Rforine did not dare return to his human form, knowing that the thorny vines his brother was throwing at him would tear through his skin. Immortal he and his siblings might be, they could still die. But remaining incorporeal would only protect him so much.
Kuja’s very being was soon stretched thin, like a piece of drenched cotton lashed between two poles that were constantly being pulled apart. He had felt like this once before.
When Fayay had come for him.
Kuja screamed inside his mind, wishing his brother would see, remember and know that he had done as much as he could.
Fayay broke me because I protected you! he cried.
It is your fault he found us! Sandsa roared back at him. Your fault I had to use my powers! Your fault Callista left me!
My fault? Kuja laughed darkly. His anger swelled and grew, bolstering his powers. My fault you couldn’t make Callista stay with you? It was her choice! She couldn’t stay with a god! That’s what she said in that letter she left you — so why can’t you accept it? It wasn’t my fault any more than it was yours!
No, Kuja blamed the Ine for putting Callista into that position in the first place, a position no mortal could reasonably handle let alone want, and he blamed the Ine for ensuring Sandsa had fallen in love with only despair awaiting him. But the Ine wasn’t the one who had left that letter. Kuja filled his mind with this truth, over and over, until the desert finally quietened around him.
The Rforine assumed his mortal form once more, dropping to the ground where he then balled himself up into a knot, sobs wracking his body. His mouth felt so parched he could have eaten the sand and found it moist on his tongue.
Right now he couldn’t feel a single drop of sympathy for Sandsa.
Bare feet appeared beside him, slowly lengthening upwards into the body belonging to his brother. A few years ago, Sandsa would not have worn anything more exciting than beige fabric beneath his cloak. Since his foray into mortal life, he had chosen to clad himself in the black clothes favoured by the gangs on the planet Yalsa 5. He even wore a belt of scored and faded leather, though he no longer needed to hang a lasgun there, not as he had when his powers had been blunted by his desire to be nothing more than a man.
Kuja grabbed one ankle and pulled. Hard. Sandsa abruptly collapsed beside him, his blond mane falling across his stunned expression. He hadn’t expected that form of attack. Chagrined, Sandsa tucked his hair behind his ears, revealing eyes so blue they were painful to look at for too long. The hands that could break Kuja disappeared back inside the folds of the cloak and the desert god’s head sank to the side, pillowed by a rise of sand.
‘Do you know what I’ve had to go through?’ Kuja demanded. ‘Knowing that I failed you? Facing Fayay when I know he can destroy me? Having to stop myself from caring too much about certain mortals in case he kills them?’
‘And what of my pain, my agony?’ Sandsa asked, shadows creeping over his face.
Kuja clenched his teeth. ‘That doesn’t give you the right to attack me.’
‘Have you lost a wife and son, brother? Have you?’
Darkness submerged them, cold and deep, as clouds of sand rose to block out the sky. Kuja sat up, dusting himself off. He did not look down at the seething desert god, keeping his scowl aimed at the obscured horizon instead. ‘No. But I lost my brother. Look at you, Sandsa. You’re not used to your human form. How can you truly understand mortals if you refuse to acknowledge this part of you?’
‘I am the Desine — my people need not see me to know I care for them,’ Sandsa said flatly. The sand above their heads shimmered like the surface of an ocean, even forming dunes that crested and fell like waves.
‘My name is Kuja,’ the Rforine retorted. ‘And you are Sandsa. Don’t you remember how close we were?’
‘You would do well to leave me now.’
Kuja curled his hands into fists, preparing for another battle. ‘Why? Because you’re afraid that love, even the love of your brother, will weaken you? That’s stupid, Sandsa! I can’t dampen your powers — only you can do that!’
Sandsa flinched. ‘Do not speak of things you do not understand.’
‘Maybe I don’t understand some aspects of love,’ conceded Kuja, thinking of Lorena and Fei and all the women he could never allow himself to develop feelings for. ‘Still, our mother saw that we were happier when we spent time together. I was so much more confident in my powers when you were with me. Beside me. Shoring me up. And I gave you a reason to be human every now and then.’
Sandsa eased himself onto his elbows, the sand swarming up to support him until he could manage to sit unaided. He had to lift his legs into a cross-legged position with his own hands. It really had been too long since Sandsa had used his human form.
I should have come sooner… Kuja shook his head. No. He would have killed me.
I would never hurt you, Sandsa cut into his mind.
Kuja snorted. You have already managed that.
The desert god lobbed a paternal frown at Kuja. The expression would have fit well on the Ine’s face. ‘You feel older. And your mind is not as, well, bright as it was.’
‘I am five years older, if you forgot,’ Kuja reminded him with an impatient toss of his head.
‘Then my son is five years old,’ Sandsa said.
Something twanged in Kuja’s heart. The anger that had been clenching the organ, forcing it into a rapid, erratic pace, suddenly dissipated. Kuja reached across and rested his hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘Sandsa, if you can’t sense your son, then Fayay can’t either. Kieran is safe.’
‘But I can’t…I can’t find him…’ Sandsa whispered. A mournful wind howled on the bare sands. ‘And I fear that Fayay will find him first and hurt him — or turn him into a weapon.’
‘You can defeat Fayay, you have before,’ Kuja said firmly.
‘But if he twists my son’s mind…’ Grief clouded Sandsa’s bright eyes. ‘Kuja, you know how powerful my son is. He could very well kill me.’
Kuja squeezed his shoulder. ‘Fayay won’t bother your son so long as you rule the deserts and Kieran never discovers his powers. That was the deal, remember?’
Sandsa’s chapped lips grated together. ‘Yes. Strange that he would offer such a kindness to me.’
‘I always wondered if Callista…’ Kuja trailed off, then moistened his mouth, strengthening his voice. ‘We don’t know if she said anything to Fayay but…Sandsa, she would have done anything to keep your son safe. To give him a life free from the Ine’s interference.’
‘You are saying that she made that deal with Fayay…’ Sandsa muttered, his forehead scrunching as he thought it over. Then his gaze snapped back onto his brother. ‘Kuja, why are you really here? I sense more is troubling you than my current situation. And that is no business of yours.’
Kuja crossed his arms. ‘It is my business. You’re my favourite brother.’
‘Who you clearly forced into human form not out of concern for me, but so that you could have someone to talk to. I can feel your worry and your guilt.’
‘I am concerned about you!’ Kuja exclaimed.
Sandsa raised an eyebrow. ‘Have you fallen in love, Kuja?’
‘What — no!’ Kuja winced when he heard his own braying laugh. ‘It’s nothing serious, nothing that would invoke the wrath of Father or Fayay — I promise! She just…she deserves a bit of happiness, a bit of pleasure. And only Bagara can give it to her.’
Sandsa’s sigh hissed over his lips. ‘Kuja. If you want permission to pursue her, I can’t give it. All I can tell you is that you should not abandon your rainforests the way I did the deserts. My people needed me. And I let them down.’
Kuja cast his eyes over the barren landscape, so different from the rainforests he loved, and said, ‘Mortals don’t need invisible deities to help them make their own decisions. I’ve seen religion make people wonder if there is something wrong with them simply because they have questions and doubts. The mortals might technically have free will but their fear of displeasing their Creator God, or any other god, is constricting them.’
‘Guidance is not the same as outright interference,’ Sandsa reminded him. ‘Stop changing the subject. Who is this woman I see in your thoughts?’
‘It’s not like that. I just want to look after her, the way the Ine failed to.’
‘So you are not trembling because you are afraid of feeling more for her,’ Sandsa said dryly.
Kuja shot him an annoyed look. ‘No, listen. She has been abandoned by both her father and her former lover because they decided that inserting chips into their temples and gaining a few fancy powers was more important than her.’
‘Chippers,’ Sandsa snarled. He’d never had much love for them, especially since they used tech to reach the Ine, someone Sandsa despised. The Desine had also tangled with some of GLEA’s agents when he had been involved with the gangs on Yalsa 5.
‘Yes, Chippers,’ Kuja said, nodding. ‘So of course Fei — Feiscina — has got the impression that she’s not important, because her god has taken everyone from her and won’t just speak to her and tell her she deserves happiness. She feels so guilty about her crisis of faith — she still thinks she owes the Ine her loyalty, even if it makes her miserable, and that’s just awful!’
‘Don’t help this woman because you are angry about what was done to me,’ Sandsa warned him. The carpet of sand above them was slowly parting, letting sunlight streak across their skin, and Kuja was glad, because it was a sign that his brother really was emerging from his dark thoughts. ‘She isn’t even one of your followers.’
‘You told me once that the Ine’s design has casualties,’ Kuja said firmly. ‘I want to help the casualties. I want to be the god that gives hope to those who have been spurned by the deities forced upon them by their families and their societies.’
‘Just what has this woman been saying to you?’ Sandsa asked, his thoughts even more incredulous than his voice.
‘Enough to know that I have to change how I deal with mortals.’ Kuja wet his lips. ‘And anyway, I’m not in love with her. I’m just going to have sex with her.’
Sandsa stared at him. ‘Sex? Is that all this Fei is worth to you?’
‘All she wants is to have a bit of fun and Finara doesn’t seem to have any trouble — ’
‘Hold on. I’ll read it from your memories so we can avoid that blush of yours.’
‘I do not…’ Kuja winced, feeling his cheeks grow warm. ‘Fine. So I blush. Easily. I think it’s the hair that makes it so obvious. Do you know that Mother once told me of an Old Earth myth that says I have no soul because my hair is this colour? How backwards the mortals once were.’
‘Hush, Kuja. You are distracting me.’ Sandsa’s expression cleared. ‘Well, I don’t see anything wrong with our sister’s approach, given that there have been no repercussions. She has not abandoned her duties in her pursuit of…fun.’
‘What was sex like for you?’ Kuja asked.
Sandsa’s lips twitched then reluctantly curled upwards. ‘It was a uniting of souls, far beyond any physical sensations. Callista and I didn’t have sex. We made love.’
Kuja captured his brother’s smile in his mind, preserving it forever. He knew it wouldn’t last — already night was stealing across the desert, erasing the twinkle that had briefly nestled in Sandsa’s eyes.
‘Sex was something that came after love for me, Kuja,’ Sandsa said quietly. ‘But I have seen into enough hearts and minds to know that is not always the case. Enjoy yourself, while you can.’
‘While I can?’ Kuja echoed.
Sandsa studied him closely. ‘I can sense you standing at the edge of a cliff, brother. You will need to step away at some point or that woman will push you to your death.’
‘The warning is thoughtful,’ Kuja said, getting to his feet. His brother rose with him. ‘But it is unnecessary. All Fei needs is a small spark of happiness and the knowledge that someone desires her, both of which I can give her, and then she will be out of my life. Father has not created her with the intention of teaching me some lesson. I’m sure of it.’
Kuja gasped, winded, when Sandsa abruptly gathered him into a crushing embrace. The Rforine blinked back tears, his heart threatening to outgrow his ribcage. His brother had not hugged him in years.
‘Sandsa…’ he whispered.
‘I am here for you, Kuja, in whatever form you require,’ Sandsa said, his words underscored with rust.
Kuja swallowed. ‘Please assume human form when I’m not here. Just sometimes. Please.’
‘I cannot promise this.’
‘I know. But please try.’
Moments later, Kuja held nothing more a cascading lump of sand. Sandsa was gone. The Rforine stepped back from where his brother had stood, head bowed. He couldn’t force Sandsa to maintain a form that had caused him so much pain. For someone who had lived as long as the Desine, the loss of his family might as well have happened yesterday.
Kuja vowed never to forget that.