by Greg Keyes
“Oh. That makes sense.” Anakin took a few steps and windmilled his arms, making sure everything worked.
“I don’t like the warriors being here,” Rapuung said.
“I’m not fond of it myself.”
“That’s not what I meant. If they are here without the permission of the shapers, it could mean they’ve come to arrest a shaper or to take something from them.”
“Can they do that?”
Vua Rapuung rasped a laugh. “You know too little of our ways, infidel, and too little about Mezhan Kwaad.”
“But what—” Anakin began, but then he got it. “Tahiri!”
“Come,” Vua Rapuung said. “There is still time.”
“This is the place,” Anakin said. “This is where they had her.” His gaze searched wildly about the room. It didn’t resemble a laboratory so much as a vivisectorium, each surface covered with internal organs—except some of these pulsed and mewled the way severed body parts didn’t. Usually. A quarter of the chamber was walled off by a transparent membrane. “She was in there,” he clarified.
“Of course.”
“Where would they have gone?”
“I don’t see any other way out,” Rapuung replied.
“Well, then—” But as before, he sensed something at his back. Another section of the wall had just gone transparent and permeable. Yuuzhan Vong warriors were pouring through it. Behind them Anakin could make out the yellow of Tahiri’s hair.
“Tahiri!” he shouted, and threw himself at the wave of enemies.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Vua Rapuung howled. Anakin fought in grim silence. Their initial charges carried them into the midst of the warriors, but unlike the group they had just bested, these weren’t scattered around a room, unprepared for a fight. Anakin and his companion were soon forced back toward the first vivarium by the six warriors who had engaged them. The other six—one of whom was vastly more scarred than the rest, probably a leader—led Tahiri and what appeared to be two female shapers back out the door Anakin and Rapuung had entered through.
“No!” Anakin exploded. He tried to leap over the warriors blocking his way, but one snagged his ankle with the amphistaff and used the momentum of his leap to slam him into the floor. Anakin cushioned the fall with the Force, but his enemy was still between him and the door, and his foot was still caught. That is, until Rapuung hit the fellow on the back of the head so hard that teeth flew out. Rapuung stood over Anakin, and for a moment, they weren’t under attack. The warriors merely stood there, watching the Shamed One and Anakin warily.
“Vua Rapuung,” one of them snarled finally. “What are you doing here with this infidel? You should be in the Shamed One’s village, pursuing your redemption.”
“I have nothing to be redeemed for,” Rapuung said. “I have been wronged. You all know it.”
“We know your claims.”
“You, Tolok Naap. You fought beside me only a few tens of cycles ago. You believe me cursed by the gods?”
The warrior he had addressed flared his nostrils, but did not reply. The one who had spoken before, however, lowered his voice. “Whatever you were, whether you are cursed or not, you have clearly gone mad. You fight with an infidel against your own kind.”
“I seek my vengeance,” Rapuung said. “Mezhan Kwaad. Where is she going?”
“The shaper master has been taken up for her trials. The accusation is heresy.”
“They’re taking her outsystem?”
“I do not know.”
“I cannot let her be taken, not until she admits she has wronged me. Any who stand in the way of that will leave this life on wings of blood.”
“We will stop you,” Tolok Naap said. “But we will fight you as the warrior you once were.” He threw Rapuung his amphistaff. “Take up a weapon. Do not make us kill a bare-handed man.”
“Thus far I have triumphed without weapons,” Rapuung said. “If the gods hated me, would this be so?”
“You have this Jeedai as your amphistaff,” one of them sneered. “Lay him aside, and we will lay down our weapons. Then we shall see how the gods love you.”
Rapuung turned a glaring eye on Anakin. “Stand away, Jeedai.”
“Rapuung, I have no time for games. Tahiri—”
“Is with the object of my vengeance. If we lose the one, we lose the other. I will make it swift.”
Anakin stared at Rapuung, then nodded curtly. He stepped back and switched off the weapon.
Eighty seconds later, stepping over the corpses, Anakin glanced sidewise at Rapuung.
“What was it you needed me for?” he asked. “I’m forgetting.”
They jogged down the corridor, gazes cutting right and left, alert for ambush from side corridors.
“When we have Mezhan Kwaad,” Rapuung said, “you must keep death from my back until I have forced her to speak. That is why I need you.”
“I can do that.”
“Swear it. Swear it by this Force you worship. Keep death from my back until she speaks—for no less a time and no longer.”
“I swear it,” Anakin replied. “If we ever get that close, that is. How long before reinforcements arrive?”
“Not long.”
“Well. Then we’re going about this all wrong. We’re just going to run into whatever ambush they have planned.”
“And we will walk through them.”
“Neither of us is made of neutronium,” Anakin observed.
“I will hide no more.”
“Hiding isn’t what I had in mind,” Anakin said. “Just a little change in tactics.”
“Explain.”
For answer, Anakin raised his lightsaber and sliced a hole in the low ceiling. “Do you need a boost up?” he asked.
Moments later, from the roof of the star-shaped compound, Anakin and Vua Rapuung watched warriors station themselves at the ground-level exits and entrances. Yavin was half-set, and it was darker now than it had been when they emerged from the succession pool, but Anakin knew the sun would be up soon.
“They will find our escape route quickly,” Rapuung said.
“I know. I don’t need long.” Once again, he reached out through the Force, searching for Tahiri. She was there, but her presence was still fitful, hard to pinpoint.
Tahiri. Hear me. I must find you.
The response was rejection.
Tahiri. You know me. You’re my best friend. Please.
This time he caught a faint hesitation and then something like a step in his direction. He saw a brief vision of coralskippers and larger Yuuzhan Vong ships he had no name for.
“Sithspawn!” he exclaimed. “They’re going to board a ship.”
Rapuung growled, deep in his throat. “No, they are not,” he said. “This way.”
They leapt down to the outside of the compound between the rays, far from any entrances, and slipped past the most lightly guarded exit, apparently without being noticed. Another hundred meters brought them to the ship compound.
Like its cousin, this damutek was a sprawling star with entrances and exits at the tips of the rays. Unlike it, its succession pool was covered, surfaced with something alien to provide parking space for Yuuzhan Vong ships. Tahiri and the group of warriors with her were walking up the ramp—or tongue, or whatever it was—of one of the larger ships. Perhaps fifty other Yuuzhan Vong went about various tasks in the compound. Most looked like Shamed Ones, though a few intendants were also at hand. Stifling a shout, Anakin threw himself into a run, Rapuung a silent shadow beside him.
When they were yet twenty meters from the ship, a cry went up. Three warriors guarding the ramp dropped to their knees and hurled thud bugs. Time slowed for Anakin as he ignited his blade and brought it up to deflect them.
Three snapped against the bright blade and arced off on divergent tangents as embers. None of them hit Anakin, but Rapuung grunted.
He didn’t slow, however. They hit the three guards like a thunder front and sprang up the landing ramp into an
other hail of thud bugs.
This time Anakin was not as fortunate. One of the things went through his thigh, and he dropped to one knee, blocking two more that would have opened his chest in unpleasant places. Rapuung yowled, twisted, and hit the ramp with a damp, meaty thud.
Anakin struggled to rise.
“Stop, Jeedai,” a cold voice said.
It was the commander. He stood next to Tahiri, with an amphistaff curled around her neck. His remaining three warriors gathered in front of him.
“Tahiri!” Anakin said.
“That isn’t my name,” Tahiri told him. “I am Riina Kwaad.”
“You’re Tahiri, my best friend,” Anakin said. “Whatever they’ve done to you, I know you remember me.”
“You may be a part of the infidel lies implanted in her,” one of the female shapers—the older one—said. “But you are no more than that.”
“Enough,” the commander snapped. “This is to no purpose. You, Jeedai. If you have come to rescue this one, you have failed. I will kill her where she stands if you continue to struggle.”
“Is this the vaunted courage of the Yuuzhan Vong?” Anakin asked. “Hiding behind a hostage?”
“You misunderstand. I know who you are. You are Anakin Solo, brother to Jacen Solo, he who is so much desired by Warmaster Tsavong Lah. I wish to have your surrender. I wish to have you alive. If I do not get my wish—if you take another step in attack—then the female will die. After that, I will cripple you if I can. Since the latter approach might lead to your accidental death, I prefer the former.”
“I’ll go in her place,” Anakin said. “Of my own will. But you have to release her.”
“How ridiculous,” the commander said. “I will do nothing of the kind. Your decision will decide whether she lives or dies, nothing more. She is ours.”
“Jeedai,” Vua Rapuung croaked, rising shakily to his feet. “Remember your oath to me.” Anakin saw with dismay that Rapuung had one hand stuffed into a gaping hole in his belly.
What could he do? The commander would kill Tahiri. He was sure of that, and in his present condition he would never be able to stop it. But if he surrendered, he betrayed Vua Rapuung.
But Rapuung was probably dying. How would regaining his honor now do anyone any good?
Anakin put his hand on Rapuung’s shoulder. “I remember my oath,” he said. “Which one is she?”
“The female with the eight-fingered hand.”
Anakin looked back up at the commander. “All right, this one thing, then, if you want me alive. It will cost you nothing.”
“I doubt that. Speak.”
“Compel the shaper named Mezhan Kwaad to speak the truth.”
“About what?”
“The questions Vua Rapuung will put to her.”
“I see no ‘Vua Rapuung,’ ” the commander said stiffly. “Only a Shamed One who does not know his place.”
“It is not I who am shamed,” Rapuung said. “Do as the infidel says, and know the truth.”
“There is no sense in listening to any demented lies from this one,” Mezhan Kwaad said. “He fights by the side of a Jeedai infidel. What more need be said?”
Behind them, the square was gradually filling with warriors and onlookers. A shout came from below.
“Do you fear the truth, Mezhan Kwaad? If he is mad, then compelling you to speak will do you no harm.”
Anakin looked over his shoulder and saw the warrior who had stopped them the first day—Hul Rapuung, Vua’s brother.
A general murmur of approval went around with that.
“How many of you fought with him?” Hul continued. “Who ever questioned the courage of Vua Rapuung? Who ever doubted the gods loved him?”
“Mezhan Kwaad is correct, however,” the commander said dryly. “He is self-evidently pronounced mad by his behavior.” He glanced at the shaper. “However, having found one treachery in Mezhan Kwaad—the treachery of heresy—I see no reason to doubt she is capable of others.” He turned to the shaper master. “Master Mezhan Kwaad, I compel you to answer truthfully whatever questions the Shamed One once known in Domain Rapuung puts to you. Your truthfulness will not rest on your honor, but on the truthhearer I procured for your questioning in the other matter.”
“I will not submit to any such indignity,” Mezhan Kwaad replied.
“You do not have the right to refuse, and your domain will pay the full price if you attempt to. Answer his questions and let us end this.”
Mezhan Kwaad’s eyes glittered curiously, and she lifted her chin. She bared her teeth contemptuously at Vua Rapuung.
“Ask your questions, Shamed One.”
“I have but one,” Vua Rapuung said. “Mezhan Kwaad. Did you intentionally rob me of my implants, ruin my scars, give me the appearance of being Shamed? Did you do these things to me, or did the gods?”
Mezhan Kwaad stared at him with an unreadable expression, then lifted her chin even higher.
“There are no gods,” she said. “This miserable thing you are is what I made of you.”
The crowd erupted in frenzy.
Mezhan Kwaad spread her eight fingers, as if waving. Faster than the eyes could catch, those fingers elongated, spearing out. Before the commander could even blink, one went through his eye and out the back of his skull. The warriors around all dropped without a sound, similarly murdered. Anakin lurched forward, but a flick of the shaper’s wrist, and one of the finger-spears pierced his forearm and wrapped around it. Torment contracted every muscle in Anakin’s body, and his lightsaber went clattering down the landing ramp. Vua Rapuung, a blur of motion, fell from a similar wound in the leg. His face flopped next to Anakin’s, eyes fluttering open and shut, a confused expression on his face. His lips were wet with blood.
“Jeedai …,” he croaked, but his words drowned in a fit of hacking.
Anakin’s pain lessened, but he found he could move little more than his eyes. He could see Mezhan Kwaad held something in her other hand that resembled some sort of nut.
“This is huun,” Mezhan Kwaad shouted to the crowd. “It releases a nerve toxin sufficient to kill each and every one of you. I am immune to its effects. Your deaths will be useless; they will not serve the Yuuzhan Vong. Commander Vootuh and these others are the real traitors. I am Mezhan Kwaad, and I answer only to Supreme Overlord Shimrra. When he hears of these incidents, he will set things right. In the meantime, I will take this ship, to better defend myself. I do not wish to harm my fellow Yuuzhan Vong. I will do so only if I must.”
The crowd, led by Hul Rapuung, had started up the ramp. Now they stopped.
Mezhan Kwaad turned to her assistant. “Nen Yim. Drag those two on board.” She motioned toward Anakin and the fading Vua Rapuung.
The younger shaper hesitated, then started toward Anakin. She stopped when she saw Anakin’s lightsaber floating up from behind him.
Mezhan Kwaad saw it, too. She sent a jolt of pain coursing through Anakin’s body that scrambled his thoughts into random impulses.
But the lightsaber continued on. Mezhan Kwaad redoubled her torture of Anakin.
Tahiri plucked the blade from the air and ignited it with a snap-hiss. Mezhan Kwaad’s expression froze halfway between puzzlement and the sudden, fatal understanding that it hadn’t been Anakin levitating the weapon at all.
Then Tahiri decapitated her.
Tahiri stood for a moment, looking at what she had done, and smiled. Like heat lightning, Anakin’s vision struck back into him, the older Tahiri, the dark Force around her, her pitiless, glacial laughter.
“Tahiri!” he managed.
She looked at him, then, and took a hesitant step toward him, then another. She let the point of the blade drop so it was almost stroking his cheek.
“My friend,” she said, her voice low and weird. “My best friend. You left me.” Her eyes were wrong. They were the same color they had always been, but they had once been warm, full of laughter. Now they were chlorine ice.
“I’ve been try
ing to find you,” Anakin said. “This whole time …”
“You aren’t real,” Tahiri said. “None of this is. You are a lie.”
He held her gaze and saw the bleakness there, the confusion. He could sense her turmoil. “It’s not a lie, Tahiri. You are my best friend. I love you.”
The blade stroked off a lock of his hair, but he didn’t flinch.
“I love you,” he repeated, the seeds of his vision beginning to take root.
Tahiri closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they became the green eyes he knew—or almost. “Anakin? Are you really—?” She looked around, as if noticing the crowd for the first time. “Well, this doesn’t look good,” she observed.
Anakin saw what she meant. With Mezhan Kwaad down, the warriors in the crowd had come to the forefront. Armed to the teeth, they stood watching the strange spectacle only meters away.
They wouldn’t just watch for long.
“We have to get out of here,” Anakin said.
“And this is your plan?” Tahiri asked, in something like her old voice.
“Hey, I’m doing my best. I’ll hold ’em off and you run into the ship.”
“No. I don’t care about dying, Anakin. Not after what they did to me. Let’s just take as many of them with us as we can.” She lifted the lightsaber. Her eyes were cooling again.
“Can I have that back?” Anakin asked softly.
She looked as if she would say no, but then shrugged and handed it to him. “Sure. It’s your blade. I lost mine.”
Anakin took the weapon, stood shakily, and faced the gathered warriors.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Hul Rapuung raised his amphistaff to guard. “Jeedai, you have proven yourself a great warrior. It will be my honor to kill you.”
“No,” a voice from behind Anakin grated.
Impossibly, Vua Rapuung rose to his feet. He took an amphistaff from one of the dead guards. “No. While I live, none of you shall fight the Jeedai.”
“Vua Rapuung,” his brother said, “we all heard what Mezhan Kwaad said. You are Shamed no longer.”
“I was never Shamed. But now you know it is a warrior you face.”
