Prologue
The blood on her hands washed off with surprising ease. Her limited working knowledge of medical aid allowed her to save the life of at least one of her comrades, but she did not have the skill to save everyone. As she looked at her palm, although she saw their cleanliness, the memory of red haunted her vision.
Once her hands were clean, her captors returned the handcuffs to her wrists. The clicking of the cuff's locking mechanism echoed with a terrifying finality. With an armored soldier at each arm, she found herself escorted out from the makeshift sanitation tent, away from the scene of bloody carnage towards the encampment of her sworn enemy.
Her mind replayed in agonizing detail the moments that would forever be etched into her mind. The hail of flaming arrows that seemed to launch from heaven itself. She had been awakened by the sounds of screaming. Her loyal entourage, trained soldiers sworn to defend her with their lives, met the end their duty by burning to death in a violent inferno.
She did what she could to put out the fires but was rapidly whisked away by her most trusted ally. She had known him since she was but a child. He was the first to join her cause, and did not once falter in his devotion to her. He carried her over one of his shoulders, the other bore a flaming arrow penetrating his armor and searing his flesh. She pulled it out for him, and while this act drew a cry of pain from him, his rapid strides did not falter.
He carried her through the forest to another encampment, where the advanced scouting party were entrenched.
"Do you have it?" His grizzled voice was more panicked than she could remember having ever heard it. "Do you have it?"
"Yes. Yes, it's here." She produced a small bauble wrapped in an handkerchief. "It's safe."
"It's not safe. It will never be safe. They know you have it and they will not stop hunting you until they get it back."
His warning was interrupted by the faint echo of ironclad soldiers marching in unison. The sound grew louder. They were closing in. Time was short. She had to...
It was too late for that. The moments that followed passed agonizingly slowly. She stood as if paralyzed, unable to affect the horrific events that unfolded around here. These men who trusted her, who believed in her, would not draw another breath.
Bladed metal stars, no bigger around than an apple and thin as a sword, spun wildly through the air, cutting down men and going again. These weapons acted upon the wills of their masters, spinning and changing direction, sometimes hovering, else they shot forward with unpredictable velocity towards their intended targets. These tools of devastation rendered her comrades into a bloody mess.
Stunned, and in shock, she looked down into the lifeless eyes of her life long friend. She did not have the tears to cry then, but she would, in time. The only sound was the coughing and sputtering of a young boy, wounded and covered in the blood of his fallen friends. She ran to him, and administered what healing she knew, cleaning and bandaging his wounds.
"What is your name, boy?" She asked as she tended his wounds.
Between coughs she could make out. "Jim, ma'am."
"I need your help, Jim." She said. "This is what they're after. If they get their hands on it, no one, anywhere, will be safe from them. You must guard it with your life, tell no one you have it, and find a way of getting it to Master Go. He's somewhere in the west province. Find him, tell him what happened here. He'll know what to do. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."
She didn't have time to warn him or get his permission. He screamed in agony as she slipped the tiny bauble, still wrapped in a handkerchief, into a gaping wound in his chest before completely bandaging him up. The agony rendered him unconscious, which she hoped would mean they left him for dead with the others. She silently prayed for his success.
Her captors brought her to the great black tent which stood where the ashes of her own camp once was. The black tent bore red pennants which swayed in the ash filled breeze. She was brought inside the tent and forced to kneel to the armored woman who sat upon a throne carved from volcanic obsidian.
"Hello, my daughter." The woman said, with thinly feigned affection. "I'm disappointed in you."
This story was originally published on 4/27/13 at mysocialempire(dit)net/rewriting-star-wars-archive