Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [18]
But he had tricked her, had used a technique that his antithesis had used on her not so long before. He had learned the uprooting technique of the Theran Listeners, as had the despised Skywalker, and used it with even less care than that Jedi had.
He had—
Abeloth screamed from a mouth that slashed her face in two. Unable to retain her form, unable even to notice that she had not retained her form, she thrashed and howled as tentacles erupted from her torso and her face shifted like melting wax. Her anguish used the Force as a weapon, as she had so often before, but this time she was barely aware that she was releasing nearly inconceivable amounts of Force energy upon a city that was completely unprepared for it.
There were several dozen beings within immediate range, some sleeping quietly in their beds. Most were with their families.
They imploded. Farther away, others awoke in agony as their bodies were turned inside out and chunks were ripped from their bones.
The entire city was attacked by a wind filled with glass shards, each a shikkar driven by a single purpose—to hurt anyone, anything, living inside the City of Glass. They were the Lost Tribe—they would suffer, all of them, as their leader had made her suffer.
The shards melted as they pierced flesh, spreading white-hot, painful death. The buildings, made of metal and glass, dripped slowly toward the ground, smothering those unfortunate enough to be dwelling inside them.
None of it harmed Abeloth, though she would not have noticed if it had. She barely noticed when she was lifted from the street where she lay convulsing up into the night air, and a large shape that looked like nothing so much as an angry orange eye sped toward her.
ABOARD THE BLACK WAVE
Gavar Khai had chosen to spend the night on the Black Wave rather than with his wife. He had informed her of this prior to departing for the masquerade; as a good Sith wife she accepted that her husband had his reasons, and obeyed.
So it was that Gavar Khai survived long enough to become a widower.
Abeloth’s agony wrenched him out of a sound sleep, and he heard the angry klaxon of an alert blaring through the ship. He threw on his robes and raced to the bridge, to find his crew, some only partially dressed, all bleary-eyed and terrified, in their seats.
“Saber Khai!” yelped Annax. “We felt Abeloth—she is—”
And then all of them fell silent. Except for those who screamed. A wave of pain swept over them; no, not a wave, nothing so weak as that. A tsunami, comprising the anguish and fear and physical torment of thousands of beings.
It was both nauseating and delicious. Khai had never experienced anything like this. Fighting to keep his eyes opened, he stared at the viewscreen. A moment earlier it had shown Tahv, quiet, peaceful, outlined by the normal lights of a city at sleep. Now flames were engulfing some areas of the city and—
“Melting,” he murmured. Abeloth was melting the city. He shook himself quickly. Recovering his composure, he snapped, “What’s the status of the landing area north of Tahv?”
Her fingers flew. “Some damage, but …”
He knew without being told. Those ships that were still functional were going to attack the frigates, believing they had sided with Abeloth.
Had they?
“They’re taking off,” he said. “Evasive action. Where’s Ship?”
He felt it, cold, focused. Abeloth is safe. We must depart immediately, Ship said.
Khai hesitated. He knew he stood at a crossroads. He could choose to be a proud and loyal member of the Lost Tribe of the Sith—what he had been all his life. He could side with Grand Lord Vol, defend his world, his culture … his wife. He could order the fleet to turn on Abeloth right now. All of them together might possibly