Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 05_ Allies - Christie Golden [133]
“Now. Follow me, step where I step, and take your time to make sure your footing is secure.”
He moved carefully into the cold water and moved toward the far end, testing each step carefully. At first the lake was utterly undisturbed by their passing. There were no splashes, not even ripples.
And then they came forth.
The faces of the dead began to emerge from the depths, floating upward but still lingering about a dozen centimeters below the surface, their eyes closed, their expressions tranquil. So many that Luke knew in life. He searched, but did not yet see the one face he had hoped to find. He was surprised at how bitter the disappointment was.
The Sith were too disciplined to gasp, of course. But they could not quite suppress their shock in the Force. He heard names—whispered, called out in surprise or in joy.
And the responses. Luke paused and turned back, listening to the conversations. He did not particularly want dead Sith imparting advice to the living, but on the other hand, he felt it was wrong to silence the communication. Such a chance was too rare to not be given, even to one’s enemy.
He need not have worried. These were loved ones, not generals or military strategists. The slightly gurgling words were gentle and tender, farewells never made or vows of eternal love repeated one more time. He was uncomfortable, and it was clear the Sith, too, were torn between wanting these unlooked-for connections and maintaining their mystery and threat in Luke’s eyes.
“These might be tricks,” said Taalon, but his voice sounded oh-so-slightly uncertain.
“They might be,” Luke said. “But I didn’t find them to be.” He turned around and moved forward. “We should not linger.”
On they went, step by step. This time, unlike the previous attempt Luke and Ben had made to reach the mists, they made progress. Luke honestly hadn’t expected this, but he felt hope rising within him. He didn’t know what awaited him inside the shifting gray tendrils of mist, but he was ready to find out. More than ready.
He had not gotten this far the last time, and the path became trickier. He slowed his pace, stepping forward carefully—
The rock gave way and he started to fall forward. A strong hand closed far too tightly on his upper arm, yanking him to safety.
“Thank you,” he said to Gavar Khai. Their eyes met, and Khai nodded.
“I would not lose our guide quite so soon,” Khai said. “Besides … now the great Luke Skywalker owes the Khai family a debt.”
“I would say rather that we are even now,” Luke said, disengaging his arm from the durasteel grip of the Sith Saber. “I spared your daughter.”
Khai’s black brows drew together. “Only because you were tracking her,” he snarled. “Only—”
“Khai!” snapped Taalon. “Later. We must find Abeloth before we settle scores.”
Khai bridled, but fell silent. Luke turned to continue.
At that moment there was a sharp cry. Luke whirled to see Leeha Faal on her hands and knees in the water, and he and the other two exhaled in relief. Even Faal smiled shakily.
“I slipped,” she said, embarrassed, and started to get to her feet. “I thought for sure I—”
The hand beneath the water that suddenly seized her wrist was pale purple. So, too, were the hands that shot out to grab her legs. She struggled, her eyes widening in surprise as her strong, slender body strained for the safety of the path.
“High Lord!” Faal cried. She got one hand free and reached out to him imploringly, unable to hide her terror. The water did not splash or churn as she fought desperately against the imperfectly glimpsed specters in the inky water.
“Leeha!” Taalon surged toward her. Gavar Khai snatched his arm just in time to prevent his commander from falling into the cold, black depths. “No, no, let me—”
Leeha’s hand closed on a jutting rock and she tried to pull herself back to safety. But the dead things in the water would have her, and there was nothing living beings could do to stop it. Her hand slipped.