Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 06_ Vortex - Denning Troy [163]
“The choice is yours,” she said. “But make it quickly. You don’t have much time.”
That was all it took to send Taalon scurrying after her.
Luke waited until the High Lord had moved out of earshot, then turned to Ben. “We need to secure the Shadow. Take Vestara and—”
“Don’t even say it. The Shadow is locked up tighter than Daala’s smile.” Ben waved his lightsaber toward the gathering hall. “I’m not letting you go in there without me.”
“And there’s no way you’re leaving me out here—with Ben or without him.” Vestara turned a hand toward her now unconscious father, and he rose off the ground and started to float toward them. “Look around, Master Skywalker. I think we’re safer with you and Lord Taalon.”
Luke thought for a moment, then nodded. Given the madness in the village, if Ben and Vestara tried to board the Shadow now, they would find themselves fighting off crazed Sith. And even if they made it safely aboard and obeyed an order to leave the island, they would find themselves at the mercy of the three Kondo-class shuttles overhead. For days, he had been hoping the Jedi reinforcements would arrive in time to help. Now it was clear: He and Ben were on their own.
“Okay,” he said. “But no heroics in there. I’m still trying to figure this thing out. I’ll tell you when I want you to do something.”
Ben glanced over at Vestara, who nodded, and then he said, “Sure thing, Dad. Just don’t get yourself killed, and we’ll do fine.”
They started after Abeloth and Taalon, stepping into a stream of dark side energy so thick it felt sticky. Luke recalled the miasma of fear and anguish he had sensed when they debarked the Shadow, and he knew Vestara had been right: it was raw power. He was feeling pure dark side energy, and it was being generated by the fear and suffering caused by the “plague” gripping Pydyr. And Abeloth was gathering that power to herself, no doubt calling on it to heal from the wounds she had received in the Maw.
They entered the hall, a gloomy post-and-beam chamber with a vaulted ceiling, swirling in shadow and smoke. At the far end was a sunken stage, ringed by several tiers of recessed seating. Rising from the stage pit was a red glow, shimmering with a heat so ferocious that it brought sweat beads to Luke’s face even ten meters away. At the edge of the pit stood Abeloth and Taalon, Abeloth glaring across the room at Luke.
“I don’t recall inviting you.”
“I wanted to check on you, Akanah.” Luke signaled Ben and Vestara to wait by the door and started forward. He knew he wasn’t fooling Abeloth—that she would be aware of his suspicions regarding her true identity. But his only chance to get close enough to strike was to convince her that she was a step ahead of him—that she was manipulating him into position. “By the look of that pit, it’s a good thing I did.”
“And what makes you think that is not how it should look?” Abeloth did not move away as Luke approached, and he saw that the stage floor had actually split. The interior of the crevice was too bright to peer into, but he had heard enough blurping magma in his time to recognize the sound rising from the fissure. “It’s not as if you have been here before, Luke Skywalker.”
“We both know this isn’t how a Fallanassi meditation hall should look.” Luke knew he was talking to Abeloth, not Akanah. But how did she know he had never been here before? Had she stolen Akanah’s memories along with her appearance? Did she have them all? That would make her even more dangerous—and Luke even more vulnerable. “Tell me what’s going on here, Akanah. Fallanassi don’t use the Current to kill.”
“Wialu did, at the Battle of N’zoth,” Abeloth reminded him. “And you are the one who asked her to do it. A pattern is emerging, don’t you think?”
Luke shrugged, though inside him a cold lump of fear had started to form. Only a hundred people in the galaxy knew what had happened at the Battle of N’zoth, where he had persuaded