It struck its intended target just above the left eye. Letting out a startled howl of distress that sounded like a moaning moon, the lorqual next to the one on which he was standing rose and kicked out with its front legs, keeping the middle and rear pairs firmly planted on the ground. A distressed bellowing rose from those huddled nearby. A second stone flung in the wake of the first struck another member of the assembled herd. It also jerked and kicked out. A third rock hit the biggest lorqual of all right in the eye.
The herd began to surge back and forth, uncertain how to react or what to do next. Among the animals clustered around Tooqui, panic began to spread like a wave, ripples of alarm racing toward the outer edges of the mob. He kept chucking stones, continuing to agitate those animals within his throwing range. The mewling roar grew steadily louder, rising even above the rolling thunder and driving rain.
Confused and uncertain, fearful and concerned, lorqual bumped up against jittery lorqual. Then Kapchenaga lent a hand in the form of several bolts of the Light-That-Burns. With the last, closest strike, the herd abandoned all semblance of restraint. They began to move. Slowly at first, but rapidly picking up speed. Rain splattering against his eyes, Tooqui did his best to point them in the right direction with his carefully lobbed stones. When the last of these had been cast, he grabbed hold of a double handful of neck bristles and hung on for dear life. For his own, and for those of his friends. He had no choice anyway. Had he tried to slip clear of his gigantic mount, he would have been flattened like a bug. Beneath him, the earth itself trembled under the impact of the quickening lorqual.
The Qulun encampment was silent, dark save for the usual all-night glowpoles that were set out to show any nocturnal amblers the way between structures. Thunder rattled the raindrops, then resounded again.
A picket suddenly blew a distress call on his horn. Multiplying alarms reverberated throughout the camp. Everyone woke up; some quickly, others more slowly, wiping at their wide eyes. Within the visitors’ transport, Luminara tried to mumble a question through her gag but failed to make herself understood. She sensed movement all around her as her equally securely bound friends struggled to sit up. There was no mistaking the reality of the disturbance, though. The turbulence was not in the Force—it was in the ground itself.
Buckling his loose-legged pants around him, a rapidly awakening Baiuntu was bawling orders in every direction. Around him, throughout the camp, all was loosely organized chaos. There was no time to get the sadains hitched to the transports, little enough to wake everyone. Under his direction, riders began to assemble. They had one chance to save everything the clan had worked for. Brandishing weapons, they charged out into the storm to try to split the stampede.
Rising above the storm, the cries of squealing sadains, trampled riders, and injured lorqual combined to create an agonized cacophony the likes of which had not been heard on that section of prairie in some time. No single shot, not even one from a modern pistol, could bring down a rampaging, panicky lorqual. But several such shots could wound severely, and more could force one of the great beasts to change direction in the hope of avoiding further injury. As the Qulun dashed back and forth in front of them, firing selectively and making as much noise as they could, the stampede began to slow, the lorqual’s jittery conviction to unravel. Without breaking stride, several of the great beasts angled away from the stinging riders who had appeared in front of them, changing course slightly to the west. Others broke clear of the herd to thunder a little more to the east. Split down the middle, the bulk of the herd rumbled off to either side of the encampment.
But a number of lorqual, hysterical beyond feeling the shots the Qulun riders aimed at them, continued to plunge blindly forward. Two were brought down by multiple bursts from the Qulun’s prized imported laser weapons. Two more were not, and in seconds found themselves in among the campsite.
Gigantic six-toed feet trampled trade goods and outbuildings, fracturing lightweight composite walls and sending those huddled within fleeing screaming into the rain-swept night. Great horned heads swung from side to side, tossing Qulun and animals flying. Crazed by dread, driven by lightning, and bleeding from gunshots, the lorqual smashed their way through the fractured, splintering, increasingly chaotic camp.
There were no longer any guards outside the visitors’ transport. Like the rest of the clan, they had rushed to the assistance of their friends and families, desperate to save lives and livelihoods. Scrambling up the front of the transport, a dripping-wet Tooqui let himself inside. Within, sitting up and struggling with their bonds, were his friends; to all outward appearances they were still safe and unharmed. That much he had expected. All Qulun traders worthy of the clan name would do their best to ensure that their goods were not damaged.
Searching for something stronger than bare fingers to work with, he found the strange offworlder equipment neatly stacked and labeled in an unlocked storage case near the front of the transport. Reaching first for one of the lightsabers, he thought better of it and settled instead for a small, versatile Alwari blade that belonged to Bulgan. A knife, he knew how to use. Small but strong hands went to work on Barriss’s bonds. When the Padawan’s hood was pulled off and she saw who had come to rescue them, she hardly knew what to say. Which was just as well, since she remained gagged while Tooqui started in on her wrists and ankles.
“Tooqui tell truth.” The Gwurran jabbered away nonstop as he worked. “Tooqui bravest of his people. The strongest, the fiercest, the wisest—”
“The most talkative,” Barriss interrupted him when she could finally remove the gag. Freed, she found that she was unable to move. Days of tight bondage had left her muscles cramped, the nerves tingling. Jedi schooling helped her restore her circulation far more rapidly than an untrained prisoner would have been able to manage. The busy Tooqui told her where their gear was stored. With two of them working together, they soon had Obi-Wan, Luminara, and Anakin untied.
Something slammed into the left side of the transport and nearly knocked it over on its side. Rising above wind and rain, a stentorian moaning reached them from outside. It was accompanied by the ragged shouts of thoroughly unnerved Qulun.
“What was that?” Anakin demanded to know as he rubbed circulation back into his legs. Even more than his lightsaber, he wanted to feel a certain Qulun chieftain’s thick neck under his fingers. Obi-Wan would not approve of such thoughts, but there were times when Anakin was more than a little tempted to set aside the teachings of his Master. Now was one of them. Just give him the chance to throttle that fat sack of duplicity Baiuntu, and he would happily do proper penance later.
“Lorqual.” Tooqui was sawing away at the material binding Kyakhta’s ankles. “To fight fight Qulun, Tooqui need big stick.” He looked up long enough to smile smugly. “Lorqual herd big stick. Tooqui stampede them this way.”
Kyakhta gaped down at the Gwurran. “You stampeded a whole herd of lorqual toward us? We could’ve all been flattened!” As if attesting to the validity of the guide’s observation, something banged hard into the transport a second time.
The Gwurran glanced over at the guide. “Big-mouth Alwari maybe should flatten mouth-lips a little. Also sit still, otherwise possible Tooqui have accident and cut off toes.”
“Listen, you little—ou, watch what you’re doing down there!”
Within moments every one of them stood tall once again, their equipment and their freedom restored. Lightsaber in hand, Luminara moved guardedly to the front of the transport and peered out. Glowpoles rocked in their stands and frightened Qulun ran to and fro, while the pelting rain continued to obscure much of what might otherwise be seen. Looming above all was the swaying, head-swinging, immense bulk of a single badly disoriented and very angry lorqual.
Force, she thought. If that was one lorqual, what must a stampede of them look like? Glancing back, she caught sight of the agitated but determined form of Tooqui, squeezed in among the others.
“Whatever happens from now on, Too
qui, I want you to know that I and Obi-Wan and our Padawans think you are very brave indeed.”
“Not just brave. Brave brave!” The Gwurran started to step forward, then shrank back as the rampaging lorqual head-butted a sizable water cistern in their direction. It exploded against the ground nearby, adding a little more liquid to the wind-driven downpour. “But right now, just a little scared scared.”
“With good reason.” Obi-Wan had moved up alongside Luminara to scrutinize their immediate surroundings. “If they haven’t broken free or been injured by these lorqual, we should try to reach our suubatars.”
“The suubatars will be all right, Master Obi-Wan.” Bulgan spoke from behind the Jedi. “They are too valuable for the Qulun to lose. They will have sent lookouts to watch over them and keep them safe from the stampede. And if they stand together, suubatars are big enough to turn even lorqual.”
The Jedi nodded. “Then we should have a few guards to deal with.”
“That’s fine, Master.” Crouched close behind his teacher, Anakin gripped his lightsaber tightly. “Having been tied up for so long, I could use a little recreation—excuse me, exercise.”
Barriss frowned at her counterpart. “You’re not preaching payback, are you, Anakin?”
“Of course not,” he shot back. “I’m just saying that if someone gets in my way, at this point I’m not in the mood to pause and discuss the situation politely.”
Huddled within the transport, they waited until the way was clear. Then the time for debate was at an end. With Tooqui, Obi-Wan, and Luminara taking the lead, the party of former prisoners sidled out of the battered transport and began working their way back toward the rear of the Qulun encampment. Along the way they encountered few of the traders. Those they did come across were mostly terrified females and children doing their best to stay clear of the amok lorqual. They had neither the time nor the inclination to concern themselves with escaping prisoners.
Fury and confusion swirled all around them, the chaos compounded by the still-potent storm. Despite this, they reached the corral area located at the back of the encampment without incident. Crouching low beside a storage transport sealed tightly against storm and intrusion, they carried out a swift inspection of the enclosure. Their suubatars were up and pacing nervously. The travelers’ supply packs, Luminara noted, were still strapped to the restless beasts’ backs.
“I make out three sentries—no, four,” she whispered tautly to Obi-Wan.
He nodded tersely. “That’s all I can see.” Raising an arm, he gestured wordlessly.
Beckoning to Barriss, Luminara moved off around the back of the feed-carrying transport. Obi-Wan and Anakin headed in the other direction. As they parted, Barriss remembered her fellow Padawan’s earlier words. His expression belied what he had told her. Trailing close behind Obi-Wan, Anakin looked entirely too eager for what was to come.
The two Alwari waited next to the transport with Tooqui. As they did, gazing out into the turbulent night, Bulgan suddenly remembered something. Turning to face their diminutive companion, he slowly dropped to his knees and placed head and hands on the chill, damp ground, eyes facing the mud, rain-slicked mane arcing skyward. Recognizing what his friend was up to, Kyakhta did likewise—though he grumbled as he performed the traditional genuflection. Tooqui looked on with satisfaction.
“Okay okays. Get up now, silly softhead dip-dips.” Both guides rose, wiping away grime and rain. “Tooqui have trader deal for you now.” His eyes flashed in the intermittent light. “You no call Tooqui dumb savage anymore, and Tooqui no call you dippy stupid stupid blockhead dimwit numbskull—”
Wiping water from his good eye, Bulgan cut their savior off in midsuggestion. “We understand what you are saying, Tooqui. That’s fair enough.” Using a sharp elbow, he jabbed his companion in his tightly curved Ansionian ribs. “Isn’t it, Kyakhta?”
“Haja, I suppose,” the other guide mumbled reluctantly.
Content, their furry companion turned to look back at the darkened corral. “That better. Tooqui would have gone to help get suubatars back, but Jedi want him stay here to look look after you two, keep you safe.”
Bulgan reached out just in time to prevent Kyakhta’s long fingers from digging themselves into the Gwurran’s short, wet fur.
Undimmed by the pounding rain, shafts of bright artificial light illuminated opposite sides of the corral. They wove graceful, elegant arcs of luminous lethality that were clearly visible through the darkness and damp. Slipping through the fence, Obi-Wan gestured silently toward the farther of the two guards standing watch on their side of the perimeter. Both Qulun were hardened from years of fighting off marauding predators and raiding clans. Their senses were sharp, their fighting skills acute.
The one who turned first overcame his surprise at the sight of the two oncoming humans in time to raise his rifle and fire a single burst. Deflected by the unnaturally swift parry of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber, the bolt went flaring off into the night. Before the sentry could get off a second shot, the Jedi had taken him down.
At first, Obi-Wan thought his Padawan might be having some trouble with the other guard. When he saw that Anakin was only toying with him, the Jedi frowned and started toward the battling pair. As soon as he saw his Master approaching, Anakin finished off his opponent with a quick cut to the neck. The Qulun collapsed into the muddy, short grass.
Deactivating his lightsaber, Obi-Wan looked down at the dead Ansionian, then up at his Padawan. Though a burst of lightning threw their faces and bodies into sharp relief, it could not illuminate the tension between them.
“What was that about, Padawan?” The Jedi’s voice was perfectly uninflected.
“Nothing, Master.” His face a mask of innocence, Anakin belted his lightsaber. “He was faster than I thought.”
Kenobi considered his pupil in silence. Then he nodded, once. “Have a care, Anakin, lest next time your opponent is even faster than that.” Stepping past the Padawan, he gestured curtly. “Come on. We’ve lost too much time here already.”
A sharp whistle drew Luminara and Barriss to them. “Any trouble?” As he spoke, Obi-Wan glanced not at Luminara but in the direction of her Padawan.
The other Jedi shook her head. Water spilled down her face, droplets clinging to her tattooed lower lip.
“Good fighters, these. More seasoned than those who jumped us in Cuipernam.” She nodded to Barriss. Holding up her left hand, the Padawan showed a small cut. Blood seeped from the wound, but the rain would cleanse it, and it would quickly heal.
Taking a step forward, Anakin eyed it appraisingly. “Have to learn to keep your distance. Especially when you don’t know how your opponent is armed.”
“I don’t have your reach,” she snapped brusquely. “I suppose you’d be happy to show me some tips?”
He surprised her. “No. I tried that once before, already. In more water than this. Remember?” So saying, he started toward his nervously pawing suubatar. Confused, she watched him for a moment before heading for her own mount. Now, she decided, was not the time to try to analyze Anakin Skywalker or his singular personality. She wondered if any time would ever be the right time.
Silently, the group mounted their restless suubatars. As they did so, both Kyakhta and Bulgan took note of the lifeless bodies of the four Qulun sentinels.
Luminara’s animal reared nervously on its hind and middle legs and she fought to control it while staying in the saddle. A few weeks ago, she would surely have been thrown. But with time had come experience, and with experience, confidence. Getting the towering beast back under control, she followed the guides as they urged their mounts northward. Firm hands and proper guidance restored to them, the bounding suubatars cleared the electrified barrier of the portable corral easily. Then they were out in the rain, racing northward across the prairie. Somewhere ahead lay the elusive overclan, and the closing stages of their mission.
Soergg had succeeded in seriously delaying them and throwing them off their timetabl
e. Hopefully, the Hutt had not delayed them too much. As she let her suubatar carry her off into the night, Luminara prayed that the Unity representatives would keep to their promise to wait until the Jedi returned before holding the vote on whether or not to take Ansion out of the Republic. From experience and studies she knew that such a vote, once concluded, would be almost impossible to reverse.
Behind them, a furious Baiuntu saw what was happening and attempted to rally a few of his clanfolk. His hopes of mounting a pursuit were dashed by the sight of numerous panicky Qulun still running wildly through their lorqual-devastated encampment.
“You idiots! Gather yourselves. Collect your wits!” His sadain bounding and rearing beneath him, he fought to control it while assembling a chase party around him. Preoccupied with the escaping prisoners and the loss of the fee they represented, he did not see what was bearing down on him. But his sadain did, and bucked him off so that it could escape.
“You miserable, worthless!…” Sitting on the ground in the grass and mud, the Qulun chieftain was beside himself. What a night! And it had begun so promisingly. Heaving himself to his feet, he slapped irately at his mudspattered clothing. A glance revealed that he was alone. The offworlders had gone, though by what means they had escaped he could not imagine. Had he held them long enough to collect the payment promised by the Hutt? It remained a possibility. The effort of holding the Jedi might still prove worth the effort. As for the thrice-cursed herd of lorqual, it had finally departed, no doubt to reassemble placidly somewhere just south of the camp it had just reduced to chaos. And he was here, out in the grass, facing a short but muddy walk back to his bed.
Well, he had led his clan through worse. Not for nothing had he acquired a reputation as a perspicacious leader as well as a shrewd trader. There would be other days, other opportunities for profit. A wise merchant knows how to resign himself to loss as well as how to anticipate profit. Everything depended on whether they had delayed the offworlders long enough to satisfy the city merchant. He started back toward the light of the camp’s remaining intact glowpoles.
The Approaching Storm Page 22
