Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [76]
“My embarrassingly malleable daughter does not lie,” Khai said. “Such promise. And such disappointment. Your mother is dead, Vestara.”
Truth, undeniable and powerful, slammed into Ben. Vestara gasped. “What?” Then, with dawning horror, “Did—did you kill her?”
“No. But I did not stop her from being killed,” Khai said. “I will start fresh. A new wife, a new child. Both are easily replaced.” Vestara, usually a master of her emotions, jerked slightly as if slapped. “Take them.” Before Ben could even register this, Khai Force-leapt down the stairs and charged.
At Vestara.
Ben moved toward Khai, but sensed that he himself was under attack. At the last minute he Force-leapt straight up, turned a somersault, and kicked out with both feet. One boot impacted a Sith’s face with a satisfying crunch. The other Sith ducked in time. Ben heard the sizzle of a lightsaber moving and jerked his foot up just in time to avoid having it sliced off, but the move forced him to land awkwardly. He hit the flagstones with his body half turned and tried to roll out of the way as the lightsaber slashed down. He was half a heartbeat too slow, and he hissed as the red blade seared his shoulder.
Ignoring the pain, Ben leapt upward, back on both feet and in a crouch as three Sabers turned on him. Their Force auras blazed with confidence. Ben smiled to himself. He parried the two blades with his lightsaber clutched in one hand, whipping back and forth between the two foes. With the other hand, he Force-hurled the third into the air. Alert and attentive, he unerringly directed the Sith’s flight toward Gavar Khai, who was bearing down on his offspring so forcefully their blades were a blur.
Ben was rewarded with a grunt from Khai before he had to return his full attention to the remaining two Sabers. His gaze flickered rapidly back and forth between one and the other, keeping their eyes on him as he used the Force to dislodge a flagstone and bring it down with a terrible final smash on the left one’s skull. The Sith dropped, his head a bloody mess, and Ben felt the first stirrings of apprehension as he turned on the last one.
Luke and Jaina were fighting back-to-back. The Sith attacking them had two advantages. One was the fact that they outnumbered the two Jedi. The second was that they were being reinforced by the emanations of the dark-side nexus within the temple. It surged forth like psychic sewage, clogging the Jedi’s reflexes as it fueled their enemies.
But Luke had fought the Lost Tribe before, and he knew their style. He knew, too, that because until very recently they had only sparred and perhaps dueled among themselves, they had a lot to learn. But even Luke Skywalker would be foolish not to completely focus on a battle against six Sith.
He felt Jaina in the Force, strong and calm, her back to him but not quite touching his. Bonded by blood and the Force itself, they performed a duet of death to the half dozen Sith pressing in for the attack. They leapt and swung, ducked and kicked in such swift, perfect harmony that an observer might have thought their moves had been choreographed. More than once, an overly confident Saber charged, only to end up slashing at his fellow Sith. In short order two were on the ground, and the odds were now a mere two to one.
Luke could hear the sizzle of lightsabers clashing behind him, only centimeters away, and then the acrid stench of burned flesh as Jaina’s blade struck home. Calm, focused, Luke feinted and then came up under one of his adversaries, slicing off both legs in an almost serene manner. The Sith crumpled, but did not cry out. Luke looked at the single remaining Sith who had targeted him, gazing without anger into the Keshiri’s narrowed eyes, and felt the first brush of real fear from his opponent.
“I will be as swift and sure as I may,” Luke assured her, almost compassionately, and bore down intently.
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For a