Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 07_ Conviction - Aaron Allston [155]
And all the while Vestara was counting. “Eight … seven … six … five …”
One of Luke’s opponents mistimed a strike, slashing when his partner was in midretreat. Luke minimally sidestepped, kept his blade from being engaged, brought its tip beneath the attacker’s hand. The attacker’s own momentum brought his wrist down across Luke’s green blade. The man groaned as his severed hand and the weapon in it slapped to the permacrete floor. Clutching his wrist, he retreated, only to be replaced by a lavender-skinned female. She smiled, clearly relishing her opportunity to cut down the legendary Jedi Master.
“Four … three …”
Luke tensed. He did not know what sort of Force attack the Sith were bringing to bear against him, but he was grateful that Vestara knew it was coming, knew down to the exact second. He would do his best to withstand it. He guided an incoming slash from his new opponent away from him, flicking it laterally. It grazed the thigh of his other opponent, who hissed as the blade cut through his robes and into his skin.
“Two … one … now.”
The Force hit Luke like a sledgehammer.
He reeled and fell to his knees. As if by reflex, his blade transcribed a defensive pattern that would confound many an attack. But no enemy blade struck at him. All around them, the Sith also spasmed and fell, their eyes widening from the power that had just assaulted them, as well.
Luke tried to rise, couldn’t. He spun on his knees.
Vestara was also on her knees. Ben was still on his feet, barely, shaky, at the end of a slash that might, at full strength, have cut his opponent in half through the torso. As it was, it had struck the moment after the Force blast, reduced enough in strength that it was merely fatal. His opponent lay dead, sprawled across one of the Theran Listeners. Ben’s face was twisted in pain and shock.
In the distance, Abeloth screamed again.
Vestara forced herself to her feet. “Quick. Before they … recover.”
The Sith were not all unconscious. Most, in fact, had simply been laid out by the sudden pain and were struggling to straighten from fetal positions, from other poses of pain. Glassy-eyed, their faces twisted, they were for the most part still conscious.
Ben stumbled to help his father up. But once on his feet, Luke waved him off. “Get … Valin. Vestara, to me.”
Barely able to walk, Vestara reached Luke, tucked herself under his left arm. They supported each other and stumbled to the stairs. Step by painful step, they ascended to the first landing, turned.
Now Luke could see Ben. The young man had Valin up over his shoulders in a rescuer’s carry and moved with agonizing slowness after his father. His face was set with his exertion, the act of will transforming him for a moment into a lean, hard man Luke barely recognized.
Luke paused there for a second, transfixed by this vision of the man Ben would someday be. Pride and sorrow both stirred in Luke. Then the moment was gone. He and Vestara continued climbing.
At the top of the stairs, one of the Sith who had remained at the top with Tola struggled to sit up. Vestara stepped on his head, slamming it down into the permacrete, breaking his jaw. She didn’t bother to look at him. Together she and Luke stumbled past, getting away from the platform, away from the big chamber.
Luke straightened, waving away further help from Vestara. He turned back.
Ben, staggering, made it to the top of the steps. Now away from uneven footing, his steps became more sure, more swift.
Together they moved toward the entrance by which they’d gained access to the complex.
Finally Ben had something to say and enough breath to say it with. “What was that attack? It felt like …” His voice, pained, trailed off.
Luke already knew what it had felt like. He’d experienced it twice