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“Incompetents don’t automatically get killed right away. Sometimes they even get reelected.”

AS THE NEW FORMATIONS WERE MOVING INTO PLACE, BEN FELT ANOTHER twitch against the web of Force energy. Dyon and several of the Witches felt it as well; he saw them turn to look skyward. He pitched his voice to carry, and did not have to add Force impetus to it in order to be heard: “Be ready, they’re coming!”

They came, and in greater force this time. Five rancors hurtled toward the southwest slope, two each toward the three other climbable slopes. They were immediately illuminated by blasterfire, misses as well as hits, but their sheer strength and bulk, as well as the armoring effects of the hides draped across them, meant that the blaster bolts again failed to slow them. Each of the eleven monsters reached the bottom of the hill and began climbing at a terrifying rate.

Directly below Ben, Luke’s lightsaber lit up. As the central rancor reached it, the blade swung back and forth, slashes so fast that they blurred together in Ben’s vision. That rancor immediately slipped and, bellowing, began sliding down the slope again.

But the other four were past now, and reaching the summit.

Cyclonic winds whipped up around Ben. He could feel the Force power in them. They blasted past him, barely jarring him, and as the four rancor heads topped the crest, the winds flowed into them, howling.

One rancor lost its balance and plummeted. The other three, steadier and sturdier, made it to their feet and—despite ferocious blows from the spearmen of the two clans—began swinging at humans.

Ben ignited his lightsaber and bounded in. With a touch of the Force, he leapt clean over the ranks of warriors, passing nimbly between upraised spears, and came down directly in front of the rancor in the center.

It was in the act of grasping a Raining Leaves spearwoman around the waist. Ben lashed out with his lightsaber and caught the thing across the wrist. Its skin blackened and split, the wound instantly cauterized. It howled and dropped the woman, who immediately rolled to her feet and brought her spear to bear once more.

The rancor swung at Ben with its other hand. He leapt over the clumsy attack in a forward somersault. When his feet came into contact with the rancor’s chest, he slashed at that surface as he kicked off again. His direction reversed, he continued through a backward somersault and came down on his feet where he’d stood only a moment ago.

The rancor clutched its chest, howling, and stumbled backward. Ben didn’t need to add any Force tricks to be rid of this beast; unthinking, it retreated one step too far, its leg coming down past the crest and onto nothingness. Its expression changed from pain and anger to dismay as it fell, flailing its arms. Ben heard it go crashing down the slope. He didn’t worry for his father, who would have no difficulty dodging one plummeting rancor.

That left three beasts, two to his left and one to his right. He chose the one to the right; if he could force its retreat, the clan members could close up that flank and concentrate their efforts against the two remaining.

As he prepared for a leap to clear the spear warriors in that direction, he saw the rancor grab one of the Broken Columns men, shake him just long enough for the man’s shriek to cut off, and then fling the body out into the darkness well away from the hill.

Ben grimaced and leapt. His feet came down on the shoulders of a warrior—Drola, he thought—and he balanced there for a second, for the rancor’s hand was coming down at the warrior. Ben slashed, catching the rancor in the webbing of skin between thumb and index finger, splitting it down to the beast’s wrist. The rancor screamed, the noise as shrill and loud as a steam whistle, and took a step back.

Ben continued his forward motion, somersaulting to his feet in front of Drola. “Spears, together now!”

The warriors surged forward, men and women, hitting the rancor simultaneously all across its body from head to knee. Not all the blows penetrated its hide wrappings or skin, but all