Star Wars_ Splinter of the Mind's Eye - Alan Dean Foster [70]
His fingertips retained the memory of that stone. It was the one he’d encountered prior to passing out. Or had he passed out? It seemed as if something deep inside him, some resource of which he was unaware, had reacted on the brink of asphyxiation to help him raise the rock, turn and fling it at his tormentor.
Yet he couldn’t recall even placing both hands around it, let alone lifting it clear of the water and throwing.
“How did I do it?” he asked the Princess.
She eyed him uncertainly. “Do? Do what?”
“Beat … him,” he added exhaustedly, gesturing loosely toward the Coway fighter.
Her gaze traveling from the native back to Luke, the Princess permitted herself a frown. “You mean you don’t remember?” He shook his head. “I thought everything was finished when you were pushed under the second time, Luke. I suppose I was worrying needlessly, but by staying under so long you had us all fooled.”
I wasn’t fooling, Luke said to himself.
The Princess was smiling now. “Then you threw that big rock. Caught him right in the temple. The creature wasn’t expecting it. He didn’t even try to duck. I didn’t think you were that supple an in-fighter, Luke.”
Luke could have objected, could have mentioned that he wasn’t expecting it either. Only the obvious admiration shining from the Princess’ eyes kept him silent. They could discuss all that later, he argued with himself.
But one thing seemed unarguable—somehow, he had thrown the rock. By one method or another, he’d thrown it. That was the important thing. Now to find out if his evaluation of the Coway would make his mysterious effort worthwhile.
They reached Halla and the others. All were trying to congratulate him at once. Luke didn’t reply. Retrieving his saber from the Princess, he utilized it on low power to cut away the vines tying old Halla to the stalactites. The old woman nearly fell, momentarily incapacitated by lack of circulation to her bound legs. The Princess was there to steady her.
“Thank you, young lady.” Halla bent over and rubbed her thighs.
Luke moved to release the Yuzzem and the ’droids. As he did so one of the three chiefs, the one whose signal had initiated the fight, interposed itself between Luke and Kee. For an awful moment Luke felt he’d completely misjudged the Coway, that he’d taken a romantic instead of realistic view of them. Was he going to have to fight again? Or possibly the Yuzzem, not being human, would have to perform some difficult feat of their own to gain their freedom? What unimaginable facet of subterranean law did they face now?
He needn’t have troubled himself. The chief merely wished to illustrate Canu’s judgment in a fashion clear to all. Luke watched tensely as the native slipped a sharp-bladed knife of volcanic glass from his garments, relaxed when the blade was used to slice away first the Yuzzem’s restraints and then the ’droids.
His relief faded when he heard a muttering sound and turned to see several Coway leading toward him the one he had fought. One supported the bandaged native at each arm. The champion shook off the pair of helpers as he neared Luke.
Muscles tight, Luke gripped the lightsaber firmly and waited. Kee chittered ominously but Luke put up a hand to quiet the Yuzzem.
Reaching with both arms, the Coway warrior clasped Luke around the shoulders and pulled. Luke thought he’d have to use the saber after all, when the native pushed him away gently. Then it slapped him on one cheek.
Luke blinked. The blow had been nearly powerful enough to knock him out. The Coway murmured something, but somehow it didn’t sound like a challenge.
“Don’t just stand there,” an amused Halla instructed him, “hit him back.”
“What?” Luke was confused and not ashamed to show it. “I thought the fight was over.”
“It is,” she explained. “It’s his way of acknowledging that you’re the stronger. Go on, hit him back.”
“Well …” Using his right hand, he belted the quiescent Coway hard enough to rattle the native’s teeth. Despite Halla’s assurances,