Star Wars_ Splinter of the Mind's Eye - Alan Dean Foster [87]
Then Luke was on his feet, the saber now shining bright blue in his hand. His roll had taken him behind Vader. He stood between the Dark Lord and the Princess. Vader regarded him silently.
“Leia?” No answer. He glanced backward. “Princess?”
A thin, sorrowful voice. “Don’t worry about me, Luke.”
Vader appeared to inhale deeply. “No, Skywalker,” he rumbled, “don’t worry about her. Worry about yourself.”
Luke felt a wild sense of elation as he brandished his father’s weapon. “I’m not worried about anything, Vader. Not now. I have no more worries and only one concern.” His voice held an unaccustomed hint of conviction. “I’m going to kill you, Darth Vader.”
That humorless laugh again. “What a high opinion you hold of yourself, Skywalker.”
“I’m … I’m Ben Kenobi,” Luke whispered in an odd way.
For just a moment Vader seemed shaken. “Ben Kenobi’s dead. I killed him myself. You are simple Luke Skywalker, an ex-farm boy from Tatooine. You are no master of the Force and the equal of Ben Kenobi you will never be.”
“Ben Kenobi is with me, Vader,” Luke snarled, gaining confidence every second, “and the Force is with me, too.”
“You do have something of the Force about you, boy,” Vader admitted. “A master of it you are not, however. That dooms you. Only a master could do … this.”
The Dark Lord lunged and Luke spun well clear. At the same time, Vader was staring not at Luke, but at the ground. A small fragment of the fallen ceiling rose, shot straight for Luke’s head. Seeing it coming, he reacted as Kenobi had taught him … without thinking.
A much smaller stone lifted and intersected the path of the charging rock. The two met. Though Vader’s missile was by far the larger, it was deflected just enough by Luke’s rock to send it shooting past his shoulder harmlessly.
Panting, he stared challengingly back at Vader. “Good, boy,” the Dark Lord confessed, “very good. But my stone was the heavier. My powers are the stronger.”
“Not strong enough, Vader,” Luke insisted as he lunged forward. His thoughts were of Kenobi, of the techniques of saber and Force the old Jedi knight had laboriously taught him. He tried to let the Force guide his arm.
Vader parried, blocked, parried again, and found himself being forced backward by the aggressiveness and skill of Luke’s demonic attack. The breath mask tilted back for a second. A section of heavy bas-relief on one of the supporting pillars was loosened, fell away.
At the last instant Luke sensed it, jumped backward. The huge carved panel shattered between them. Both men rested uneasily as the dust settled. Luke gulped for air, while Vader showed less aplomb and increasing tension.
“You are good, Skywalker,” he declared. “Very good indeed, for a child. But the end will be the same.” He raised his saber and came charging over the broken panel.
Now it was the Dark Lord who initiated the assault. Luke found himself forced steadily backward as Vader threw an unceasing blizzard of stone shards and saber cuts at him. It was impossible to counter them all.
Somehow Luke did so.
They were circling in the center of the temple floor now. Lying on her side, the Princess tried to turn and watch. The pain of her wounds rose about her like a steel wall. Around her thoughts the wall closed, and in response her eyes closed and she slumped back to the cold, cold stone.
Again the two enemies paused, only now it was Vader who was panting heavily. “Kenobi … trained you … well,” the Dark Lord admitted admiringly. Some of his usual insouciance had been drained by the steady fighting. “And you have some … natural ability of your own. You have proven a challenge. I enjoy … a challenge.”
Still unhurt, Luke whispered defiantly, “Too much of … a challenge for … you!”
“No,” Vader assured him, “no. You overestimate yourself, child.” The Dark Lord drew himself up to his full, awesome height. “I have finished playing