Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 05_ Allies - Christie Golden [149]
“Master Hamner?”
“That’s wonderful, wonderful news, Cilghal. News we sorely needed. News … I sorely needed. Thank you.”
So, Ben thought, glancing at the several Sith who stood by, staring at the corpse of their mutual enemy. What now? He didn’t turn off his lightsaber.
Luke got to his feet, and went to check on Dyon. “He should recover, but he needs care, right away. Ben, take him to the Shadow.”
“But—”
Luke shot him a look and Ben fell silent.
“My daughter is injured as well,” said Gavar Khai, moving to Vestara’s side and examining her injuries. Vestara was pale, but she was doing her best to show no weakness, even now. “I will take her back to my ship and—”
“I don’t think we’ve decided what’s going to happen yet, Khai.” The words, unexpectedly, were spoken by Taalon. The Sith High Lord looked thoughtfully at Luke. “There’s still the body to examine.”
“And this place, and the others that I saw Beyond Shadows,” said Luke, nodding. “And I’m certain you’re every bit as interested as I am in learning what Abeloth was.”
“Indeed,” said Taalon. “It would seem that our alliance is not yet quite dissolved.”
Ben sighed.
“Surely you don’t need more than a thousand Sith hanging around with nothing to do but plot treachery among themselves,” Luke said.
“You are afraid,” Taalon said, smiling thinly.
“Actually, I’m not,” said Luke. “But I think you are.”
The smile vanished. Taalon’s eyes flashed. “Manners, Skywalker, or I shall lose my temper, and you and your boy will die without having your questions answered.”
“Send them away,” Luke said. “I’ll let Jaina and Lando go, too. Two Jedi, three Sith. The numbers do seem a bit unfair, I admit. For you.”
Taalon and Khai exchanged glances, smiling ever so slightly. “I agree,” said the High Lord.
“Good,” Luke said. “Ben, take Vestara and Dyon back to the Jade Shadow and take care of them both. Contact Jaina and Lando, and tell them the terms we’ve agreed on.”
Ben expected Khai or Taalon to protest. Instead, Khai looked to his leader, and Taalon said, “Yes, I am sure your sick bay is quite well stocked. Vestara deserves the best care. Do not let him out of your sight, child. Is that understood? We need you watching the boy.”
Ben had to try really hard to not roll his eyes. His father had essentially reclaimed Vestara as a hostage, and here was Taalon, trying to make it look like Ben was the prisoner being watched over by the girl. It was all silly, pointless posturing as far as he was concerned. He knelt beside Dyon, lifted his friend as gently as possible, and glanced over at Vestara.
“Looks like you can walk okay,” he said. He was still angry and hurt at the deception she’d perpetrated earlier. “Come on.”
Taalon watched them go. He wondered if the boy, if Khai and Vestara and the others, had all been personally assaulted by Abeloth as he had been.
He knew it had been only a second that the creature who now lay dead at their feet had frozen him in order to attempt to seduce Skywalker. But it might as well have been an eternity. He had been unsettled enough by Faal’s fate, though he would never admit that, and it was as if Abeloth knew it.
In that second that was a lifetime, a dozen lifetimes, she had looked inside him, violated him on a level even he, a Sith High Lord, had not imagined was possible, and beheld what it was that Sarasu Taalon feared most.
And called it forth.
He had been running, running on feet that were blistered and bleeding, running with labored breath and near-exploding heart. And they had been behind him.
All the beings whose lives he had taken, or broken, or twisted. All the friends he had betrayed, all the family members he had ordered slain, all the rivals whose loved ones he had tormented, and those loved ones as well who had not even known his face in life. As long as he succeeded, they would not touch him. As long as he won every battle, made no mistakes, spotted every foe, he would be all right.
But the minute his foot wavered—
His ankle betrayed him, and he fell, hitting the ground upon which he was running hard. Tears, shameful tears