Star Wars_ Splinter of the Mind's Eye - Alan Dean Foster [85]
“Monster,” was all she could spit out, furious and afraid.
“Do you remember that day back on the station,” Vader mused, with deliberate patience, “when the late Governor Tarkin and I interviewed you?” He placed a peculiar stress on the word “interviewed.”
Leia had both hands on opposite shoulders and was shivering as if from intense cold.
“Yes,” Vader observed, perverse amusement in his voice, “I can see that you do. I am truly sorry I have nothing as elaborate to treat you to at this time. However,” he added, swinging his weapon lightly, “one can do some interesting things with a saber, you know. I’ll do my best to show you all of them if you’ll cooperate by not passing out.”
Leia’s hands dropped to her sides. The fear did not leave her, but she forced it into the back alleys of her mind by sheer will. Running the few steps to Luke’s side, she knelt and groped at his wrist. When she rose, she was holding the lightsaber carefully in one hand.
Vader looked on approvingly. “You’re going to fight. Good. That will make it interesting.”
She spat at the advancing giant, a pitifully feeble gesture as she brandished the lightsaber. “The Force give me leave to kill you before I die,” she snarled.
An awful coughing laugh issued from behind the gargoylish breath mask. “Foolish infant. The Force is with me, not you. But,” he shrugged amiably, “we will see.” He assumed a position of readiness. “Come, girl-woman … amuse me.”
Grimly determined, mouth clenched, she moved toward him. As she did so Vader abruptly let his arm fall, let the lambent beam of his saber hang limply at his side.
“Leia, don’t!” Luke yelled to her. “It’s a feint … he’s daring you. Kill me, then yourself … it’s hopeless now.”
Vader looked over at Luke contemptuously, then back at the Princess. “Go on,” he told her, “let him fight for you if you want. But I won’t let you kill him. I’ve been robbed too often.”
Leia appeared to hesitate, then lunged straight at Vader with the tip of the saber. Simultaneously the Dark Lord brought his own beam up in a lightning gesture to parry hers.
But Leia performed a spinning, twisting arc in the air and brought her saber down in a slashing flare of blue light. Energy flashed as it contacted the Dark Lord’s armored breath mask. Only superhuman reflexes enabled him to avoid the full effect of the blow.
If there was anyone in the vast chamber more surprised than Vader, it was Luke. He fought to free his trapped leg with a slight twinge of hope.
“Almost, little Princess, almost,” Vader murmured without anger. “I have been guilty of overconfidence before.” He adjusted his stance. “I will not be guilty again.”
His saber curled in, around, down. She barely managed to deflect the blow as she backpedaled. Again he advanced, swung; again she deflected the cut.
They dueled on, with Vader steadily pressing his attack. It required every bit of skill and strength the Princess possessed for her simply to defend herself. There was no thought of mounting an assault of her own.
One occupant of the temple chamber was not watching the fight. High above and far away from the duelists, Halla stood at face level with a pulsing, multifaceted crimson crystal as big as her head. With trembling hands she reached out, caressed it. A twist and pull brought it out of its socket in the statue with unexpected ease.
For a long moment she held the jewel in both hands, gazing deeply into a luminescence that was almost alive. Then she was picking her way back down the juts and thrusts of the idol, clutching the crystal tight to her bosom with her right hand.
Vader cut down, the Princess brought her saber up yet once more to parry, and Vader at the last instant changed his swing. The tip of the energy beam slashed across her midsection, slicing through her miner’s suit to leave a black burn across her middle. She winced in pain, grabbed at the wound with her free hand. Vader allowed her no respite,