Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [158]
The caverns had very few narrow passages, so most of the time they could walk three abreast. Vestara could sense that Ben was still put out with his father for removing them from the real action. She, however, was more or less resigned to it, and when Natua paused and shone the glow rod into an offshoot cavern, all three of them came to a dead stop.
Thus far all they had seen was what nature had wrought. Now they peered into what could only be called a “room.” It felt as though the temperature had dropped several degrees, but the chill was not entirely physical. The walls—which bore delicate writing—floor, and ceiling were even and flat, not curved. There were remnants of what appeared to be rugs, cushions, and tools. And over in one corner, covered with droppings, debris, and dust, were—
“Lightsabers,” Natua breathed.
“They surrendered their weapons here before going on,” Vestara said.
“You guessed that?”
“I read it,” Vestara said, pointing to the writing on the wall. She took a step inward, feeling the chill wrap around her like a cold mist. She knew Ben and Natua sensed it, too; this little pocket was steeped in dark-side energy. The initiates who had come here had been afraid—and judging by the number of abandoned lightsabers, rightfully so.
“What’s it say?” Ben stepped next to her, touching her lightly on the shoulder. She knew what the contact meant: I am here. I believe in you, even as we stand awash in dark-side energy. And Vestara felt a little—a very little—warmer.
“ ‘Initiates, you who would master the dark side, prepare yourselves. Leave your weapons, and your former selves, here in this chamber—or depart now and forever in shame, before it is too late to turn back.’ ”
“They were allowed to go?” asked Ben.
Both Natua and Vestara shrugged. “It probably wasn’t like walking away from a sabacc game,” Natua said. “They would be, as it says, forever shamed. I’d bet that included exile.”
“Or some type of particularly vicious punishment, or ritual suicide,” Vestara said. “Whatever the case, they wouldn’t live long afterward.”
“Do you think the lightsabers were left by the ones who were too scared to go through with it?” asked Ben.
Vestara turned to him. The dark-side energies here, old and patient, were too familiar for her liking, and she knew she had dropped into her former coldness as she responded. “No, Ben. I think if you refused to complete the ritual, your lightsaber was taken and given to someone more worthy. I think these lightsabers were left by owners who didn’t survive the initiation.”
Natua looked at the weapons and grimaced. “To reinforce fear and apprehension,” she said. “Sounds like the Sith for sure. They don’t even really take care of their own.”
A cold, unhappy pang shot through Vestara, but she kept her expression neutral. “No,” she said. “They don’t.”
“I’m going to make some recordings,” Natua said. “We need to document everything we find.”
Vestara and Ben stepped back into the main tunnel to give her room to work. “Hey,” Ben said gently. “You doing okay?”
She smiled uncertainly. “For the most part,” she said. “I think I’d honestly prefer to be fighting Ship than be down here with all this.”
“I know. I wish we were. This stuff seriously creeps me out.”
Vestara didn’t answer. It creeped her out, too—but it also stirred up an unexpected longing. She was between worlds now. She had turned her back on her culture, her people, and their ancient rituals. Soon, she would be embraced—she hoped—by the Jedi, and belong to their culture, and experience their rituals. But now, she felt adrift. The feeling surprised her, and she found herself reaching for Ben’s hand.
They stood in silence for a while, hands clasped, until Natua emerged. “Let’s keep going,” the Falleen said. “This is fascinating, and important data to have, but I’d just as soon not linger.”
The tunnel curved slightly,