CHAPTER ONE
Dead Men Walking
The portal spat Obi-Wan through the air and he tumbled onto dirt and twigs. He rolled to his feet, the hum of his lightsaber his only comfort.
"Hello?" he called out. He glanced up at where the portal had been only moments ago. Instead of a swirling mass of silver energy, there was only blue sky and the tops of green, coniferous trees. The karking Sith Temple he'd been exploring had deposited him into a forest, one that he didn't recognise.
"This is General Kenobi to Command. Do you copy?"
Obi-Wan eyed his comlink as it crackled. There was no answer. Obi-Wan repeated himself, trying various channels, to no avail.
"Anakin? Cody?" Neither replied. Curse the Sith and their ancient artefacts, for they surely had something to do with his relocation.
He tucked the comlink away and eyed the vegetation, trying to figure out where he was. It didn't look as if he was still on Dathomir—the sky was too bright, the flora too alive. Snow was falling gently and he could make out the faint trills of a bird.
Still, the forest was quieter than that he'd expect from one of the major vegetative planets. There were only one sun and one moon in the sky, so he couldn't be on Naboo or Endor. Perhaps he was on Alderaan, although he didn't know how such a portal could exist that would be able to transport him halfway across the galaxy.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and allowed himself to embrace the Force, trusting in it to show him the way. His body was filled with warmth and a sense of reassurance.
"Where do I go?" he murmured.
When he opened his eyes, he holstered his lightsaber and strode forward with a sense of purpose. The Force had laid a path before him; all he could do was follow.
Hours passed, and on Obi-Wan walked. He'd had to draw his robes closer about him; he'd been dressed for cold on Dathomir, but the snow had settled and the night was drawing near. This was cold unlike anything he was used to.
Just as the sun began to set, an unusual noise caught Obi-Wan's attention. He dropped into a fighting stance, lightsaber flying into his hand. He did not light it.
The noise had come from the road which Obi-Wan had been walking along. It was a dirt path, with no obvious tracks of hovercraft or other, faster, more civilised means of transport. Although Jedi were not supposed to indulge themselves, Obi-Wan hoped that he'd soon be able to get off his feet and beg a ride from a kindly traveller.
"In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours."
A man was singing, his voice rough and unpolished. He sounded as if he'd been at a bottle of Corellian Whiskey. Obi-Wan stepped into the shadows of the nearest trees and waited for the traveller to pass.
To his disappointment, the man was riding a horse—not wealthy enough to afford something automated, Obi-Wan assumed. He was handsome, blonde and chiselled, although his beard disguised his features somewhat. He was also dressed in a bewilderingly old-fashioned outfit that looked like something from the history holos, a similar idea to clone armour, but far more intricate, with an artificial hand made from gold. Obi-Wan reassessed his opinion on the man's wealth as a sickening thought occurred to him: perhaps he was on a planet with limited resources. What if the planet hadn't been introduced to the Intergalactic Republic at all?
Deciding to take a risk, Obi-Wan stepped forward.
"Greetings, traveller. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. Who might you be?"
With surprising agility, the traveller drew what looked to be a steel sword, and his horse whinnied, rising on all fours. Obi-Wan took a step back, not wishing to take a kick to the chest. The man's blue eyes were sharp and wary, not dulled by the drink Obi-Wan had previously assumed him to have consumed.
"Who are you?"
"Obi-Wan Kenobi," he repeated. "And yourself?"
The man scoffed, his gaze flickering from Obi-Wan's lightsaber, still not lit, to the outfit that he wore.
"Of what house? Who is your liege lord?"
Obi-Wan frowned.
"I serve the Jedi Order. I would never serve a Sith Lord, nor a lord of any sort."
The man seemed bewildered by his words, and Obi-Wan was coming to realise that his worst fears may very well be true.
"Have you heard of the Galactic Republic?" he asked. "Where is the nearest spaceport?"
"Of all the men I could encounter upon the road, I encounter a lunatic," the man muttered to himself. "Go on, shoo! Do you not know who I am?"
"I'm afraid not…" Obi-Wan said. Before he could continue, a twig snapped behind him. The sun had fully set, and he did not hesitate to light his saber as he spun on one foot.
A girl stood before him, eyes glowing an unnatural blue.
"Good evening," Obi-Wan said. She did not reply.
"That's a wight!" the man behind him snarled. "Run!"
The wight—whatever manner of creature that was—stepped forward with outstretched hands. As Obi-Wan took her in fully, he realised that the skin was hanging off her bones, and she seemed to have a bolt of metal in one eye. He spun his saber, falling into Ataru. With two swipes, he decapitated the creature and sliced it in half.
"Where there's one, there's always more!" the man said. His horse was prancing on the spot, and he was wielding his sword with his left hand, his eyes wide with fear.
Obi-Wan didn't know how well the man could see, but he wasn't wrong. There were five 'wights', each with glowing, blue eyes and the stench of death about them.
"Too late," he said. "What are they?"
Something primal within him rebelled at the sight of them.
"Dead men walking," the man said. Somehow, Obi-Wan realised he wasn't being metaphorical.
"Most unnatural," Obi-Wan commented, and launched himself forward, the blue light of his saber guiding his way.
The wights died like any humans would, if he removed their limbs or heads or sliced them in half. They were slow, mindless, and so he flipped himself from tree to tree and cut them to pieces. The horse behind him had not bolted and the man on it had managed to trample a wight of his own by the time that Obi-Wan had killed the remaining four.
"By the gods, I've never seen anyone move like that. Who are you?"
Obi-Wan straightened, inspecting the dead bodies for any signs of life. There were none.
"I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, Knight of the Jedi Order," he said. "I have been displaced from my Dathomir and I need to find my way back. Do you have any intergalactic communications on this planet?"
"Intergalactic?" the man repeated. "Ser Kenobi, I thank you for your help, but I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're speaking of."
"It is as I thought." Obi-Wan took a breath. It seemed that he'd been transported to a planet so far from Coruscant that not even the Republic had reached it. "Where am I, if you would be so kind as to inform me?"
"About a day's ride south of Winterfell, if my bearings are correct."
"And what is your name?"
"You really don't know," the man said. He chuckled, as if the very idea was ludicrous. "My name is Jaime Lannister. I'm on my way to fight for the living, as I promised that I would."
"For the living, you say?" Obi-Wan considered the stars. He didn't recognise a single constellation. "If you don't mind, I think I'll join you."
"Hardly," Lannister said. "Let us continue on and leave the dead behind."
Word Count: 1312
Auction D18/3. Fandom — Star Wars [1312 words = 26 coins]
A/N: This is a WIP that may never be continued. Apologies.