Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [166]
Vestara grabbed and shook him. “Ben! Listen to me!”
He blinked, trying to focus on her. She looked like Vestara, and she wasn’t terrifying the life out of him—
“We have to get out. Now. The tunnels are collapsing.”
“Natua—” He whirled, turning to where the creature was. It was nowhere to be seen, nor was Natua. It had used the distraction of the quake to escape. His gaze fell on a bloody smear that disappeared into the darkness.
“It’s too late for her,” said Vestara, shaking his arm again, “and it’s going to be too late for us if we don’t hurry!”
He nodded, finding his mask and putting it back on. Just in case. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here!”
They raced back the way they had come, reaching out in the Force to try to sense the instant before another great, bucking shudder racked the ground and bracing themselves accordingly. Now that they were no longer exploring in a leisurely manner but quite literally running for their lives, the distance seemed much shorter to Ben. They passed where they had encountered the old, brittle bones, crushing them to dust beneath running feet. They had almost made it to the chamber where they had found the lightsabers when Ben sensed another quake about to occur.
Ben grabbed Vestara and Force-hurled them both back down the tunnel. He angled himself so that she fell on top of him, sparing as much energy as he could to lessen his own fall.
The roaring sound nearly deafened them, and it seemed to go on forever. Ben clung to Vestara, and she clung back. After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel was still.
And dark.
“You okay?” Ben asked.
He felt her pressed against him, felt her breathing, felt her heartbeat. “Yes,” she said, climbing off him carefully. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
She laughed, shakily. “I’ve—lost my lightsaber.”
“Me too. Maybe they just got knocked from our hands.” Ben’s ribs were bruised from the hard landing, but he managed to sit up. He winced, knowing Vestara was as blind as he right now.
He held out his hand. It didn’t matter where the lightsaber lay. He imagined how it would feel in his hand—the coolness of the metal, the familiar weight. And an instant later he felt a gentle smack in his palm as the lightsaber returned to it. Grinning despite his pain, he activated it. The first thing he looked for was Vestara’s face, bathed in soft blue light.
She was not looking at him. She was looking over his shoulder, in the direction they had been heading.
Ben turned to follow her gaze—and saw that they had been sealed in.
“Bloah,” he said glumly.
They stood staring for a while, then Vestara sighed. “This would go faster with two lightsabers, but let’s get started. We might even get out of this alive if we do.”
“Oh, we will,” he said.
“You sound pretty certain.”
“I am,” he said. “You just recently turned toward the light side of the Force. I promised I’d watch you become a Jedi, remember?”
With her mask on, he couldn’t read her expression, but she reached over and silently squeezed his arm. He sent her a warm brush of confidence and affection, and went to work on the stones.
They quickly fell into a rhythm. Ben would cut the stones. Vestara would use the Force both to move the carved-out pieces safely behind them and to keep the “wall” of remaining stone from collapsing in on them. A few more tremors came, but between the two of them the wall held.
At one point, after several minutes of this, Ben’s breath started to become labored. He thought the mask wasn’t functioning, and started to remove it.
“Don’t,” cautioned Vestara. “The air … it’s running out. And it feels … hot. Use the Force to control your breathing.”
He nodded. He did not speak, not after that warning, and did as she suggested—used the Force