Brink
By: Syntyche
Four: Shades …
Obi-Wan Kenobi concentrated fiercely, sending a strained mental missive to his old master, who was cheerfully chatting with their new hosts.
Did I say I have a bad feeling about this? Because if I didn't already, I think you should know that I do. A really, really bad feeling. A let's-please-just-go-home-now kind of bad feeling.
Obi-Wan paused mid-ramble and glanced hopefully at Qui-Gon, but the older Jedi merely flashed him a wary look and resumed his pleasant conversation. An in-deep-trouble-we-are feeling, Obi-Wan added, and an irritated expression finally crossed Qui-Gon's face.
Obi-Wan, we have a job to do.
And that was that. But, Obi-Wan presumed - perhaps unfairly - that it was somewhat easier for Qui-Gon to ignore Obi-Wan's bad feelings since to-date none of their adversaries had wanted to send Obi-Wan a 'message' that involved Qui-Gon as the unfortunate message-bearer. No, that honor - including the pummeling or braid-chopping that was usually the threat being sent - was always bestowed upon Qui-Gon's hapless Padawan. And apparently many, many pissed-off people wanted to send said missives to Qui-Gon; consequently Obi-Wan had gotten quite tired of being dumped into a puddly heap on Qui-Gon's doorstop as a means of relaying such warnings.
If it were the other way around, I bet he'd listen, Obi-Wan snarked to himself, the unsettled grouchiness he'd been nursing since their arrival more palatable to grasp than the creeping worry that was trying to crawl across his mind and unfetter the gut-roiling panic that was threatening to erupt across his senses. Obi-Wan himself was a little surprised at his level of anxiety, but Qui-Gon had drawn him aside once already, quietly writing Obi-Wan's worry off as their proximity to the warpstone deposits that disrupted - no, swallowed - the Light and interrupted clear communication with the Force.
Obi-Wan wanted to believe him - the locals were proving to be quite friendly - but wasn't that always how it started?
Obi-Wan rubbed at his newest scar - the long gouge that started at his neck - and absently finger-combed behind his ear where his thin braid used to rest out of the way. His grey eyes darkened as his already nervous thoughts wandered back to that day, to that bad feeling …
"There, there. Just sit yourself down, young one, and stop worrying so much."
"What?" Obi-Wan blinked hazily, the fog lifting away from his thoughts as he reluctantly tore his unseeing gaze from the window, noticing as he pulled away the anxious cluster of faces pressing toward the small stone house. The arrival of the Jedi had caused a modest stir in the homogenized community, and Qui-Gon had graciously accepted for them an invitation to dinner from one of the Council elders. Qui-Gon and Anakin were already seated at a large table heaping with platters of steamed vegetables and roasted meats far more appealing than anything they had eaten lately and Anakin was practically salivating at the display of rich foods. Obi-Wan had to concede - after Qui-Gon's offerings of stick-dinners and trail rations, the rising scent of hot food was making his mouth water, too.
Their hostess, Elika, was the one who had roused him from his wandering thoughts and she patted his arm now kindly, wispy grey hairs sliding out from the tangle at the nape of her neck to frame her wizened face airily.
"You have the air about you of one who worries too much, young one. You're going to wrinkle that adorable face." She pinched his cheek and gave his arm a tug, leading him back toward the table. "Sit down and rest. There's nothing to worry about here."
Their host, Elika's husband Makir, smiled tenderly at his wife's bustling, snagging her arm as she hurried past him. "Sit down yourself, my love. The table is set and everything will be cold before you've finished your fussing."
Elika sniffed delicately, properly offended, but obligingly settled herself beside her husband, immediately picking up a laden platter and passing it to Qui-Gon.
"You said it was not simply a holiday that has brought you to Sylvania, Master Jinn?" she inquired politely, not much real curiosity showing in her tone; more so a courteous attempt at small talk as her duties as hostess dictated.
Qui-Gon shook his head as he selected a warm hunk of bread and handed the plate over to Anakin. "Indeed not. We are here to investigate reports of warpstone deposits, which, if our information is correct, are located not far from here."
Makir nodded, apparently pleased by the accuracy of the information Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had obtained. "You are indeed correct. These deposits are well known to us, for as you must know warpstone generates large amounts of energy."
"Among its other uses," Obi-Wan interjected dryly, but was ignored as Makir added,
"You may stay with us tonight, and in the morning Elika will guide you to the Falls, where you will be able to collect any readings and samples you need. It has been long since those of the Light came here, but our small town often plays host to others seeking warpstone."
Obi-Wan's concerned eyes met Qui-Gon's as he shifted forward in his chair, questioning cautiously, "'Often,' you say?"
"Do you know if any of those seeking the warpstone recently have been Dark?" Qui-Gon interjected, following Obi-Wan's train of thought easily. "Dark, as we are Light?"
"Not that we are aware," Elika answered readily. "But the Dark is not as easy to see as the Light."
"Because of the warpstone," Obi-Wan clarified knowingly. "It swallows the light." He nodded thoughtfully, explaining, "You have existed within the realm of the warpstone for all of your lives; it is conceivable that you would sense its existence as merely a normal part of your daily existence."
This wasn't unheard of by the older Jedi - they often encountered somewhat more primitive cultures using the essences of Light or Dark without realizing it was the Force - but to Anakin, eagerly following the conversation, this was most interesting.
"So, you use the Dark Side without even knowing it?" he asked excitedly.
"Anakin," Qui-Gon murmured a warning, but Elika laughed lightly.
"No, littlest," she explained sweetly, "we do not use the warpstone as you would. It has little spiritual power other than obscuring the raw Light that you employ to enhance your own corporeal abilities. We use it instead for the energy it generates."
"Jedi don't use the Dark side," Anakin pointed out sanctimoniously. "It's evil."
"Of course it is, littlest." Elika patted Anakin's hand gently, just patronizing enough so that Anakin's brow crumpled in annoyance. "Dessert, anyone?"
OoOoOoOo
After dinner found Obi-Wan once again drawn to the quiet corner with the window that overlooked the town's small square, marked as such by a huge stone fountain that had apparently broken down some years past for there was no water filling the basin, just curious dark stains the color of which he couldn't make out in the night. Obi-Wan watched apprehensively as spidery shadows of twilight crawled from the dark corners and crevasses between buildings. The hour had grown late and the street was quiet, but Obi-Wan could see dim lights flickering in the windows of the meeting hall where the Jedi had earlier been introduced to some of the Council elders and also invited by their current hosts to dinner.
"Something interesting you, dear one?"
The voice at his shoulder was as unwelcome as it was startling - Elika, the top of her grey head barely reaching his shoulder. She had been his own personal shadow since they had set foot in the town and her constant presence had long grown old to the young Jedi who longed for a moment of peace to order his anxious thoughts.
"Not at all," he answered, forcing cheer into his weary tone. "Just standing here."
"Well, try this," she said brightly, pressing a steaming mug into the hands he automatically lifted as she pushed toward them. The drink was dark and thick, and Obi-Wan's nose wrinkled at the strong and familiar scent.
"I really don't drink kaffe," he protested half-heartedly, but under the sternly disapproving look she leveled at him he immediately took a sip of the bitter liquid, swallowing hard to get the vile taste down. It was decidedly stronger than any kaffe he'd ever had, with a thick texture that clung to his mouth in a most unpleasant way.
She was looking at him expectantly, clearly waiting for his reaction.
"Thanks," he choked, forcing a weak smile that suddenly wobbled as a wave of weariness washed over him, pulling the energy from his body as it ebbed. He felt behind him for the chair he knew was there and settled his lagging body onto its firm surface gingerly, the room looping and swaying before his confused eyes.
"Are you all right?" his hostess asked in concern, her hand warm on his shoulder as she helped him steady his suddenly trembling frame.
"I'm sorry," the knight apologized slowly, dropping his forehead into his upraised palms and kneading his temples gently in an attempt to ease the new ache that had burgeoned there, rippling and gnawing at the corners of his brain. "It seems the busyness of the last few days has caught up with me."
"That's all right, Obi-Wan." Elika's hand was on his shoulder, dipping to gently circle a slow track across the taut muscles of his back in a move that even his beleaguered mind pointed out was a serious violation of his personal space. "Drink the rest of your kaffe and we'll get you to bed; you'll feel better in the morning."
His will to resist gone, Obi-Wan obediently lifted the cup to his lips and drank, draining the bitter liquid without further protest. He didn't object as she took first the cup from his numb fingers and then grasped his elbow gently, firmly but carefully pulling him to his feet, guiding him past the sitting room where Qui-Gon and Makir spoke in hushed tones and into a small bedroom that had been designated for the use of guests.
"All right then, love," Elika cooed, fussing over Obi-Wan like he hazily imagined a mother might have, only there was something else there, something dark and needy underneath. "Your bag's here in the corner. Put on your sleep clothes and lie down, and I'll be back to check on you in a minute."
Finally, his brain seemed to kick back in, working sluggishly but at least trying to put pieces together in a puzzle that should have been obvious immediately had he been at even half capacity in this moment. "Thank you," he heard himself say, "but I'm really not - "
"Obi-Wan," Elika said firmly, "Lie down. Sleep."
"Yes, ma'am," his mumbled voice took the initiative for him again, and he found wearily that his frozen fingers were already slackly undoing the ties of his tunic and he shrugged out of his shirt, letting it drop to the floor in a rumpled heap. Elika stooped to pick up the discarded material as Obi-Wan sank onto the bedside, tugging sloppily at his boots with hands that were distressingly slow to respond to his brain's commands.
Obi-Wan frowned heavily, trying to form coherent words from the clutter of thoughts in his mind. "I think … I need to see … I need … Qui-Gon…"
Elika was standing close to him, pressing his face almost into her stomach as she trailed her long fingers through his cropped hair soothingly in a way that was decidedly non-maternal. Though it may have been the darkness in the small room, to Obi-Wan's tired mind it seemed as if years had melted away from her face, the lines gone, the grey in her hair changing to raven that shone in the moonlight creeping in through the window. She looked suddenly young to him, eager and hungry, her crimson mouth smiling promises his struggling mind may not have pieced together but his body certainly did.
"I need … " he tried again, the words right on the tip of his tongue.
"You need to sleep now," she commanded him firmly, but she started in surprise when her trailing fingers dipped below his hairline and encountered the raised ridge of flesh across his neck that slid beneath his under tunic. Almost clinically now, the ravenous possession in her stare faded as she leaned in closer, her hair ticking his nose as she inspected the long furrow digging down his spine, her mouth pursing, her eyes flashing black.
"What has happened here?" she asked, bluntly curious, seemingly another person altogether. "You are … damaged." Her gaze narrowed. "By Darkness."
Obi-Wan nodded, inexplicably relieved she had drawn away, cautiously releasing the breath that had caught in his throat. "Yes," he said simply, the shift in her tone and manner barely registering to Obi-Wan, so given over was he to his sudden exhaustion once she shifted away. How long had he been tired like this? It felt like a very long time.
Elika straightened briskly, her odd behavior dissipating, and when Obi-Wan glanced again he was relieved to see that his eyes were no longer playing tricks on him: she looked as she had earlier at dinner, small, grey-haired, gentle, and kind.
"Finish changing and rest, Obi-Wan," the old woman said quietly, pausing as she reached the doorway to glance back at him over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. "And tomorrow your search will end."
A question formed on his lips that was whisked away by his next breath. Force, he was so tired …
Not even bothering to finish undressing, Obi-Wan laid his head on the pillow and closed his grey eyes.
He was asleep within seconds.