Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 20_ The Final Prophecy - J. Gregory Keyes [5]
She turned to find the tracker impaling the leader with his own amphistaff. For a moment they stared at each other, the Shamed One and she. Then the Yuuzhan Vong suddenly dropped to his knees.
“I prayed it was you!” he said.
Tahiri opened her mouth, but heard the stir of treetops that could only be another flier arriving.
“Come on,” she said. “We can’t stay here.”
The warrior nodded and bounded to his feet. Together they ran from the clearing.
An hour or so later, Tahiri finally halted. The fliers seemed to have lost them for the time being, and the tracker had been gradually dropping behind. Now he staggered against a tree and slid to the ground.
“A little farther,” she said. “Just over here.”
“My legs will no longer bear me,” the tracker said. “You must leave me for the time being.”
“Just under this shelf of stone,” she said. “Please. It may hide us from the fliers if they sweep here.”
He nodded wearily. She saw he was clutching his side, and that blood covered his flank.
They scooted up beneath the overhang.
“Let me see that,” she said.
He shook his head. “I must speak to you first,” he said.
“What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”
His eyes widened. “No!” he said, so vehemently that blood sputtered from between his lips. Then, more quietly, “No. We thieved a ship from an intendant and came here to find the world of prophecy. We saw you land—is this the place, one-who-was-shaped? Is this the world the Prophet saw?”
“I’m sorry,” Tahiri said. “I don’t know what you mean. This is Dagobah. I came here for … personal reasons.”
“But it cannot be coincidence,” the tracker said. “It cannot.”
“Please,” Tahiri said. “Let me see your wound. I know a little about healing. Maybe I can—”
“I am dead already,” the tracker gruffed. “I know this. But I must know if I have failed.”
Tahiri shook her head helplessly.
The tracker straightened a bit, and his voice strengthened. “I am Hul Qat, once a hunter. Or I was, until the gods seemed to reject me. I was stripped of my title, my clan. I was Shamed. My implants festered and my scars opened like wounds. I gave up hope and waited for dishonorable death. But then I heard the word of the Prophet, and of the Jeedai Anakin—”
“Anakin,” Tahiri whispered. The name twisted a blade in her.
“Yes, and you, whom Mezhan Kwaad shaped. And Vua Rapuung who fought—you were there, were you not?”
A deep chill ran through Tahiri. She had been Riina, then, and Tahiri, and she had nearly killed Anakin.
“I was there.”
“Then you know. You know our redemption belongs with you. And now the Prophet has seen a world, a world where there are no Shamed Ones because it will redeem us, where the true way can be—” He coughed violently and slumped again, and for an instant Tahiri thought he was already dead. But then his eyes turned toward her.
“My companions and I wanted to find the planet for our Prophet. One of us, Kuhqo, had been a shaper. He used a genetic slicer to get access to an executor’s qahsa and steal its secrets. He found intelligence gathered about the Jeedai, and evidence that there was some connection between you and this world. Some of your greatest came here, yes? And now you. And so please, tell me. Have I found it?”
He shuddered, and his eyes rolled. “Have I?” he begged again, so weakly this time it might have been no more than a breath.
Tahiri reached out and took his hand. “Yes,” she lied, not even knowing exactly what lie she was telling. “Yes, you’re right. You found it. Don’t worry about anything now.”
His eyes filled with tears. “You must help me,” he said. “I cannot take the news myself. The Prophet must know where this world is.”
“I will do it,