Star Wars_ Shatterpoint - Matthew Woodring Stover [88]
He could not imagine what the march must be like for the wounded prisoners.
Every once in a while, a hunk or two of the hail that the thunder-head above spat down would bounce all the way through the layers of leaf and branch and vine and give someone a knock. By the time they reached ground level, most of these hailstones had melted down to about half the size of Mace's fist: too small to be dangerous, though still large enough to raise stinging welts on his head. The Balawai prisoners gathered ones that fell nearby, sucking on them to melt them in their mouths. With a bit of wiping, these hailstones made the cleanest source of water they were likely to find-they carried only the faintest sulfurous traces of volcanic smoke and gases.
In the Force, Mace felt the hot fierce sting of an approaching akk dog; a moment later he felt a Force-nudge on his right shoulder blade. He reached up to tug on Nick's ankle. "Keep them going," he said, raising his voice over the hiss of the rain. "I'll be right back."
A few steps off their line of march, a man's shadow began to take shape through the rain-blurred gloom. Mace walked toward it, weaving between trees and moving vines aside with a gesture, to find the bruised Akk Guard heading for him carrying one of the Balawai. Behind the guard, the great akk Mace had felt made a gray silhouette.
"Fell out, this one. Think he's fevered, me." The guard set the Balawai on his feet. It was the wounded man with the missing hand. "Better keep someone with him, you."
Mace nodded as he looped the man's good arm over his shoulders. "Thank you. I'll look after him." The Balawai gazed at him without recognition.
The guard frowned down at them. "Gonna kill you for this, Kar is. Know that, you?"
"I appreciate your concern."
"No concern. Just tellm. That's all."
"Thank you."
The guard frowned a moment longer, then gave an elaborate shrug before he turned away and faded once more into the gloom.
Mace thoughtfully watched him go. The two Akk Guards hadn't been hard to co-opt; while Nick wrangled the Balawai into something resembling marching order, Mace had worked his way back upslope to where one stood watching him, while the one he'd knocked down still sat on the ground massaging his broken nose.
Mace squatted beside him. "How's your face?" he'd asked gravely.
The guard's voice was half muffled by his hands. "Why care, you?"
"It's no dishonor to lose to a Jedi," Mace had said. "Here, let me see."
When the astonished Akk Guard took his hands away from his face, Mace put his hands to either side of the man's nose and popped the bones straight with one brisk twisting squeeze. The sudden sharp pain made the Korun gasp, but it was over so quickly he didn't even have time to yelp.
After that he could only blink in wonder. "Hey-hey, feels better, that.
How'd you-"
"Sorry I lost my temper," Mace said, standing to include the other Akk Guard. "But I can't back down from a challenge. You understand."
The two Korunnai exchanged a glance, and they both nodded reluctantly, as Mace had known they would: Vaster had trained them like dogs, and like dogs their only answer to the pat on the head that followed the kick was to wag their tails and hope they weren't in trouble anymore. "I think you're both solid," Mace went on. "Strong fighters. That's why I went at you so hard: respect. You're too dangerous for me to play games with."
The Korun with the broken nose had said in a tone of generous concession,
"Got a stone-sweet head-butt, you." He chuckled, crossing his eyes to look at the bloodied swelling between them. "Best I ever ate."
Now the other Akk Guard could not resist chiming in. "And that