Thanks again everyone for reading and responding to my little tale. :)
Ummm, if you want to blame anyone for the following poem, blame me. I
haven't written poetry in awhile, but thought I'd try to write one to give
a sample of the poems Obi-Wan had been reading. :)
First Knight - Part Twenty-Seven
-----------
Gentle are the eyes of my love,
Though darkened by woe
And bleak with sorrow.
When he looks at me
Both blessed and cursed am I.
Tender are the hands of my love,
Though roughened by strife
And scarred by pain.
When he touches me
Both healed and wounded am I.
Warm are the lips of my love
Though hard with grief
And bitter with anguish.
When he kisses me
Both found and lost am I.
Anakin looked up from the datapad at Onara who was smiling warmly at him. As she was having one of her better days, she was sitting up in bed, the pillows heaped behind her back. Ben was in the nursery taking a nap. There had still been no word from Kindah Province in response to K'lia's refusal to hand Onara over to Jerule. Many around the manor had taken that as a good sign, but Anakin wasn't so optimistic.
He was glad the Assembly guards were still assigned to the manor. Not that Anakin didn't think he was capable of handling matters on his own, but he didn't want to take any chances when to came to the safety of Onara and Ben. If anything were to happen to them, Anakin had convinced himself, Obi- Wan would never forgive him.
"You read that beautifully, Anakin," Onara said, breaking into his thoughts. "It's almost as if the words had some special meaning for you."
Anakin shrugged. "At first I didn't understand the poem. But, now..." and he shrugged again. "I think I see what Nomi is saying."
"And what do you think she is saying?" Onara asked gently.
Anakin pressed the datapad between his hands as he stared down at the screen.
"Well, I think she's saying that love isn't just hearts and roses and moonlight. That it's rocks and thorns and storms and sometimes love is going to hurt you, badly, but you have to keep loving anyway."
Then, fearful he'd got it wrong, he quickly looked up at Onara, his heart pounding. She stared at him for a long moment, her dark eyes thoughtful. Then she smiled and Anakin relaxed.
"I think that's exactly what she was saying."
Anakin smiled at her, dipping his head the way he did when he was embarrassed, but was too embarrassed to admit he was embarrassed.
"If I didn't know better, Anakin," Onara said, her voice light and slightly teasing, "I'd think you were becoming something of a romantic. Keep that up and someday you're going to win the heart of some terribly lucky girl."
Anakin shook his head, but he felt himself grinning like an idiot. He was about to tell her that Jedi were not allowed to fall in love, then realized how foolish it was going to sound in light of present circumstances. Instead, he looked back down at the datapad and, scrolling through the file of Obi-Wan's collection of Nomi Sunrider's poems, found another that Onara had deemed her favorite and read it to her.
-------------
Warm are the lips of my love
Though hard with grief
And bitter with anguish.
When he kisses me
Both found and lost am I.
Obi-Wan slowly opened his eyes, the last lines of Nomi Sunrider's poem, which he had been quietly reciting to himself, lingering in his mind like an echo. He was lying on his back on some warm, if somewhat smelly, layers of skins in a tent the Whiphids had given him and Auna to sleep in.
At first Obi-Wan had felt trepidation at sharing a tent with Auna, in light of the suggestive comments she had made towards him earlier. However, her attention had seemed to be focused more on her ship than on him. After the audience with Big Yezun, he and Auna, after being given some animal hides to wrap themselves in, had been escorted to the crash site of the ship.
Auna, after thoroughly inspecting it, had told Obi-Wan she was pretty sure she could repair the damage, but it was going to take a few days. The two had therefore agreed that Obi-Wan would go on to Douro's camp and Auna would stay behind and work on the ship.
Now, as Obi-Wan stared at the top of the tent, he let himself finally release, for a time, his almost obsessive concentration on his goal of finding Sinja-Bau and allowed himself to drown in his longing for those he had left behind. He thought about Anakin and wondered how his Padawan was doing without him, hoping everything was all right with the boy. He thought about Onara, his breath quickening, his heart racing at the thought of how much he longed to look into her dark, winsome eyes, smell her sweet skin and feel her, once again in his arms, warm and soft.
And he thought about Ben. Tears stung Obi-Wan's eyes. He'd only had a few days to spend with his son who, he suddenly realized, was already two weeks old. Which meant Obi-Wan had just under two weeks remaining before the month Healer Eo had given Onara to live was up. The fact that he was less than a day away from Sinja-Bau gave Obi-Wan some hope, but the situation surrounding that hope was dire.
Having to deal with a man as ruthless and merciless as this Douro appeared to be and now being caught in the middle of a blood feud between the Arkanian and the Whiphids was not going to make Obi-Wan's task any easier.
He reached inside his tunic and pulled out the pendant. He held it between his fingers, felt its smoothness and its warmth from having lain against his skin. Then, just as he was about to open it, the flap to the tent unfastened and Auna stomped inside.
She was wrapped in the animal skins the Whiphids had given her and Obi-Wan to use as protection against the cold. Her head was also covered with what looked like the pelt of some small animal. Its long tail hung down the back of her head. Snow swirled in behind her, along with the wind, which kicked up the skins Obi-Wan was lying on. He sat up, slipping the pendant back under his tunic.
"Flark, but it gets cold here at night," Auna grumbled.
She walked over and knelt before the small fire Obi-Wan had built in the center of the tent. She held her hands before it, rubbing them hard.
"Is your estimate of the repair time for the ship still the same?" he asked her.
Auna nodded. "A few days. Should be no more than that. I'm going to have some of these lunkheads help me. Least they can do for having shot us down like that. I was pretty impressed by the number of tools they've managed to steal from Douro's camp."
Obi-Wan nodded as he turned his head and gazed over at the fire. Auna gave him a sharp-eyed look.
"Master Kenobi?"
"Hmmm?"
"Ya given any thought to what yar going to do once you get to Douro's camp?"
Obi-Wan continued to stare at the fire for a moment. Then he looked over at her.
"I still have hope I can accomplish my goal without having to inflict any harm or injury to anyone."
Auna blew out a hard breath and clucked her tongue.
"Yar dreaming, Master Kenobi. If ya want Sinja-Bau, something tells me yar probably going to have to inflict some harm or injury. Maybe quite a bit."
Obi-Wan shook his head, but did not answer. He did not want to confess he was beginning to feel the same way.
"And what about Big Yezun? He's not going to give ya yar weapon back unless he gets Douro's head."
"I will not get involved in this blood dispute between Douro and the Whiphids."
"But what about yar weapon?"
"A lightsaber can always be replaced. A life can not."
"Nah, I mean, you're a Jedi. How are ya going to function without your weapon?"
Obi-Wan sighed. "It is true that we Jedi look upon our lightsabers as more than just a weapon. It is a symbol of our Order and of our commitment to the Force. We construct them while in the deepest of meditations. It is, you could say, our life."
Auna nodded, although Obi-Wan could see by her eyes she didn't really understand what he was taking about.
"Yes, that's what I mean," she said. "It's your life. What if ya have to fight or something?"
"I hope it doesn't come to that, Auna, but if it does, I have been trained to defend myself without my lightsaber, or any other kind of weapon."
Auna shook her head as she took off the animals skins.
"Master Kenboi, I ain't talking about defending. I'm talking about killing. And trust me, ya be doing a great favor to the universe if while you're getting Sinja-Bau, ya just happened to take Douro out and brought his head back to Big Yezun."
Obi-Wan frowned, his mouth tight. "I came here for one thing and one thing only, Auna. To find Sinja-Bau and take her back so that she can, with hope, save Onara's life. I did not come here to murder. That is not the Jedi way."
Auna, who had piled her animal skin coverings in a corner of the tent and was now laying out some pelts to sleep on, stopped and gave Obi-Wan another sharp-eyed look.
"Master Kenobi, do ya love this woman?"
Obi-Wan looked over at her. "What?"
"Onara. Do ya love her?"
"Yes, very much so."
"And if ya had to murder to save her life, would ya?"
Obi-Wan swallowed. He stared at Auna, his heart beating hard in his chest.
"And if you had to murder to save ya darling wee one, would ya?" she went on, her violet eyes boring deep into hers.
Obi-Wan stared back at her, but just as he was about to answer, Auna looked away from him, waving her hands in the air.
"Nah, don't answer that. It wasn't a fair question. I know yar a Jedi. I know ya have to do the right thing."
Obi-Wan watched as Auna laid herself on her bedding of pelts, pulling one of them over her as a blanket.
"I guess that's probably why ya Jedi aren't allowed to fall in love, eh?" she said softly, her eyes slowly closing, the exhaustion he had sensed coming from her finally overwhelming her. "To have to pick between the way of the Jedi and the way of the heart. Can't be an easy choice for ya. Nope, not at all."
Obi-Wan said nothing. He continued to sit, the crackling of the fire, the howling of the wind outside as it beat against the tent and soon, Auna's slow, even breathing as she slept, the only sounds filling the air in which the answer to her question still hung unspoken.
----------
Tsara clenched her fists as she stared at Jerule. Whatever possessed her to get involved with such an idiot! Were all the men on this planet fools! If only Count Dooku hadn't had to leave.
"What did you think?" she hissed, as she paced back and forth in what used to be Edress's private chamber but was now Jerule's. "That K'lia was just going to hand Onara over to you?"
Jerule, who was wearing one of Edress' formal Dynast robes, gave her a dark look, but said nothing. Tsara narrowed her eyes at him. He had followed the Count's advice speedily enough about how to quell the dissension that had arisen in Kindah Province when it was announced that Jerule and not Edress's nephew was going to rule as Dynast.
A few public executions here, a number of arrests there, and most of the overt displays of dissent had quickly dissipated. Even Edress's nephew who, understandably, had been the most vocal, retreated quietly to his country estate when one of his most trusted advisers was found with this throat cut.
Now, just like all the men in Tsara's life, except, of course, for Count Dooku, Jerule was becoming indecisive. He had yet to response to K'lia's refusal to give up Onara and her baby. He picked up a silver-handed letter opener from off the ornate desk and fidgeted with it.
"The law is on my side," Jerule said hesitantly. "I have consulted with my legal advisers and they have informed me that I have a very strong case as it relates to Onara having been married to the position of Dynast and not to Edress himself."
"Legal advisers," Tsara sneered. "Bah! K'lia will produce an equal number of highly esteemed legal advisers who will argue the complete opposite. And then where will you be."
She walked over and stood in front of the desk, her face thrust angrily towards his.
"We don't have time to wrangle this in the courts, Jerule. We have to accomplish our goals before Kenobi returns. He's been gone two weeks. He could return at any time, therefore we must move quickly."
Jerule put the letter-opener down. He picked up a diamond-crystal paper weight and passed it nervously back and forth between his hands.
"What do you suggest, Lady Tsara?"
"Assemble your forces and move them to the border of K'lia's province."
Jerule's face paled. "You want me to go to war?"
"No, fool!" Tsara snapped. "Think, for once! K'lia has Assembly guards stationed at the manor guarding the baby. Once you move your troops, the Assembly will demand the return of the guards so that they can be sent, along with the rest of the military, to counter your aggressive stance. K'lia will have no choice but to obey the wishes of the Assembly. The manor will be defenseless."
Jerule shook his head. "Not entirely defenseless, Tsara. The two Jedi will still be there. Along with the security droids."
"Leave the security droids to me. As for the Jedi," and Tsara shrugged. "One's just a boy and the other is only a physician."
"But they are Jedi," Jerule insisted.
"So what if they are. Not even the much vaunted Jedi, I suspect, will be able to stand against the Red Tide."
Jerule gasped, his eyes widening. "The Red Tide?"
Tsara nodded. She put her hands on the desk and leaned towards Jerule.
"You now have the money to hire them, Jerule."
"But...but," he stammered. "They're the most deadly and feared mercenaries on Ahjane. It's even whispered they're not really human, but demons disguised as human."
Tsara smiled. "So much the better. The Jedi are said to be more than human. If there is any group on Ahjane capable of defeating them, it would be the Red Tide."
Jerule shook his head, the fear in his eyes clearly evident.
"I'm not sure about this, Tsara. I think you go too far this time. I was hoping to get Onara without having to resort to such desperate and, I daresay, dangerous means. Moving troops to the border, hiring the Red Tide. It's more than I bargained for."
As Tsara stared at Jerule it was all she could do not to slap him. Yes, she decided, she must be suffering under some vile curse to always have to deal with weak, spineless men. As soon as she got her hands on her great- grandson she was going to see that he received the training Count Dooku had offered, for if the boy grew up to be even half the man the Count was, he would be a most worthy ruler. He would not be weak. No, Tsara thought firmly, he would be strong and ruthless, the way a ruler should be.
"Listen to me, Jerule, for I will not say this again," Tsara said in a low, deadly voice. "You will assemble your troops and move them to the border. You will hire the Red Tide and you will, from now on, do as I say. If not, I will see that Count Dooku is informed of your actions. Or shall I say lack of action in carrying out his commands."
Tsara knew she was taking a chance for, although she was confident the Count had been very impressed with her and would, more than likely, back up whatever decisions she made, she was also not absolutely certain he would.
However, Tsara had noted that not only had Jerule held Count Dooku in awe, he had clearly been afraid of him. When Tsara saw the terrified look on Jerule's face at her mentioning reporting his actions to the Count, she knew her gamble had paid off. Jerule nodded at her, his throat working.
"I will do as you say, Lady Tsara. Yes, we must do as the Count instructed us."
"That's better. Now, pick up your pen and take out a piece of paper and write your first directive as Dynast of Kindah Province. Order your generals to move their forces to the border. After that you will take out another piece of paper and you will instruct the treasury to provide me with the sum of 500,000 decales. The sum I will need to procure the services of the Red Tide."
Jerule picked up the silver-cased pen and drew out two pieces of thick, ivory paper.
"But, Lady Tsara, how will you contact the Red Tide? No one even knows who they are or where they are located."
Tsara tilted her head as she watched Jerule write out his directive to the military.
"Leave that to me," she said.
--------------
"Hello, Father."
Obi-Wan looked over at the young man who stood across from him in the chamber of a towering black edifice. The walls, the floors and the ceiling were all made of the same glimmering ebony upon which a blood-red light, eldritch and fey, its source seeming to be the very air itself, flickered and wavered. There was nothing in the chamber, whose roof seemed to stretch upwards to the heavens itself, except himself and the young man who stood before him.
Obi-Wan stared at the man who had just addressed him as father, confusion wracking his brain. He had no idea how he how come to this place or why he was here. The man who faced him appeared to be about twenty, his face still boyish but the hard, sharp lines of adulthood clearly evident. He was dressed all in black, a lightsaber hanging at his side. There was a deep cleft in his strong chin, his lips were firm, but cruel, and his hair, which curled about his neck, was black as midnight. And the eyes. Obi-Wan gasped as he saw himself looking into his own blue-gray eyes.
"Now do you recognize me, Father? It's been so long. I wasn't even a month old when you last saw me. Just a baby when you left me. When you left her."
Obi-Wan's heart began to pound furiously in his chest. Then he noted that, although it felt as if he was in his body, there was a difference. He was heavier and he could feel a tightening in his muscles and in the joints. He glanced down at his hands and saw they were wrinkled and aged. He looked back up at the young man who smiled at him, but his smile was malicious and mocking.
"Yes, you're old, Father. And, from the looks of you," and the young man's face twisted into a sneer, "it would appear time has not been good to you. By my calculation you should only be fifty-four, but you look decades older."
As the young man spoke, he walked slowly around Obi-Wan, his black knee- high boots echoing softly about the cavernous room.
"Has it been rough for you, Father?" the young man asked, his voice sarcastically polite. "Suffered much, have you? Oh, I do hope so. I hope you have suffered every day of every year of the last twenty years. I hope you have suffered as much as she did."
Obi-Wan turned and watched as the man continued to circle him, like a predator examining its prey.
"Ben? Is it you? I don't understand. What has happened?"
"Don't call me that!" the man snarled. "That's not my name! My name is Malek. Lord Malek, ruler of Ahjane." Ben pointed at Obi-Wan. "Whereas you! You're nothing but a traitor!"
Obi-Wan's heart thudded in his chest. "No, you're Ben. My son. Onara's son-- -"
Ben struck Obi-Wan hard across the face. His head snapped back, blood pooling in his mouth.
"How dare you speak her name! You who murdered her!"
Obi-Wan shuddered as he swallowed his blood, but the thick iron taste was nothing compared to the anguish that lanced through his body at Ben's words.
"Murdered her? No, I would never harm Onara. I would rather die then hurt her."
Obi-Wan cried out, dropping to his knees, as Ben struck him across the face again, hitting him so hard he felt the teeth rattling in his head.
"Yes, perhaps you would have rather died than hurt her," Ben said, his voice low and cold as he stared down at Obi-Wan. "But we'll never know that now, will we, since she's dead. Dead all these long years. However, dear Father, although you may have been willing to give up your life for her, you obviously did not see fit to give up your precious Jedi principles for her, did you?"
Obi-Wan raised his face and looked up at his son, his heart twisting in his chest.
"Ben, I swear, I don't know what you're talking about. Where is Onara? What has happened to her?"
Ben raised his arms and head and screamed, his voice, tortured with both grief and anger, echoing through the dark chamber. Obi-Wan felt his blood run cold at the sound. Then Ben slowly lowered his head and arms, his blue- gray eyes burning with rage and torment as he stared down at Obi-Wan.
"Why do you feign ignorance, Father? You know what you did. You chose the way of the Jedi over her life. Now look at you. You don't have her, you don't have the Jedi, you don't have anything."
Ben reached down and grabbed Obi-Wan's chin. Squatting, he drew Obi-Wan's face close to his, the face in which Obi-Wan saw not only himself, but Onara.
"You are nothing, Father," Ben went on in a harsh whisper. "Nothing. Now, tell me, why have you come to Ahjane? To seek forgiveness? I can assure you, you won't get it. No? Or perhaps you have come to save me. To rescue me from the dark side."
Ben smiled wickedly and gripped Obi-Wan's chin. "You'll fail in that too, as you have failed in everything else."
"Ben, I don't know what has happened," Obi-Wan said, his voice throbbing with both confusion and desperation. "I don't know how I have come to this time or to this place, but I do know that you are my son. You will always be my son, and I will always love you."
Ben stared at Obi-Wan, then pushed him hard away and stood. As Obi-Wan looked up at his son, all he could sense from him was hatred and anger.
"Love?" Ben snarled. "What do you know of love? You don't even know what the word means! You're just a pathetic old man. You claimed to have loved my birth mother, but when it came down to it, you chose yourself over her."
"Ben, please, I don't understand. I would never choose myself over---"
"Mother, what shall I do with him?" Ben suddenly called out, interrupting Obi-Wan's plea.
A spark of hope fired in Obi-Wan's chest. Perhaps Ben had lied and Onara was still alive and she could help him understand this nightmare he had fallen into. He looked over as a woman walked towards him and Ben from the shadows of the chamber, her black robes flowing behind her, her wrinkled face burning with triumph.
"What else should one do with a Jedi, my son," Lady Tsara. "Kill him."
"As you wish, Mother."
Ben turned back to Obi-Wan. He unclipped the lightsaber from the belt about his waist. Obi-Wan watched, his mind stuttering with horror, as a blood-red blade leapt from it. Ben raised the lightsaber above his head.
"Goodbye, Father. May you rot in hell."
The red blade fell towards Obi-Wan.
"Ben, NO!"
"Master Kenobi. Are ya all right?"
Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Sweat was pouring down his face and chest and, for a moment, he didn't recognize his surroundings. Then he saw Auna's worried face peering down at him. She had been shaking him. He slowly sat up from the pelts he had been sleeping on and saw the hide walls of the tent, smelled the musty animal furs, and heard the wind whistling outside.
"Were ya having a bad dream?" Auna asked, all four of her hands on his arms.
Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded.
"Yes, a bad dream" he gasped.
"It must have been a rare one. Ya look as white as a ghost."
Obi-Wan took in deep breaths of the cold air until his heart had stopped its mad beating.
"I'm fine," he assured Auna.
She looked at him closely for a moment. "Are ya sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
Auna nodded and released his arms, rising and turning towards the fire.
"Is it morning?" he asked her.
"Yes. Early morning. Very early morning. These Whiphids are one for rising before the sun, I tells ya. I brought ya some breakfast," she said, handing him a stone bowl filled with what looked like orange mush.
"It ain't much," she went on, "but it's filling, despite the way it looks. And smells," she added, wrinkling her nose.
"Thank you, Auna," Obi-Wan said as he took the bowl.
He dipped his fingers into the mush and tasted it. It was not disagreeable and, as he ate more of it, as Auna had said, it was quite filling.
"Big Yezun said that when yar ready to go, ya can start out for Douro's camp."
"Good," Obi-Wan said as he finished the mush.
He made to get up, but Auna grabbed his arm.
"Are ya sure yar up to this, Master Kenobi. Ya still look a mite shaky."
"I'm fine, Auna. It was as you said. Just a dream."
Auna nodded and let go of his arm. But, as Obi-Wan went about the tent gathering up his fur wrappings, he hoped with all his heart that it had been just a dream and not something else.
To be continued....
First Knight - Part Twenty-Seven
-----------
Gentle are the eyes of my love,
Though darkened by woe
And bleak with sorrow.
When he looks at me
Both blessed and cursed am I.
Tender are the hands of my love,
Though roughened by strife
And scarred by pain.
When he touches me
Both healed and wounded am I.
Warm are the lips of my love
Though hard with grief
And bitter with anguish.
When he kisses me
Both found and lost am I.
Anakin looked up from the datapad at Onara who was smiling warmly at him. As she was having one of her better days, she was sitting up in bed, the pillows heaped behind her back. Ben was in the nursery taking a nap. There had still been no word from Kindah Province in response to K'lia's refusal to hand Onara over to Jerule. Many around the manor had taken that as a good sign, but Anakin wasn't so optimistic.
He was glad the Assembly guards were still assigned to the manor. Not that Anakin didn't think he was capable of handling matters on his own, but he didn't want to take any chances when to came to the safety of Onara and Ben. If anything were to happen to them, Anakin had convinced himself, Obi- Wan would never forgive him.
"You read that beautifully, Anakin," Onara said, breaking into his thoughts. "It's almost as if the words had some special meaning for you."
Anakin shrugged. "At first I didn't understand the poem. But, now..." and he shrugged again. "I think I see what Nomi is saying."
"And what do you think she is saying?" Onara asked gently.
Anakin pressed the datapad between his hands as he stared down at the screen.
"Well, I think she's saying that love isn't just hearts and roses and moonlight. That it's rocks and thorns and storms and sometimes love is going to hurt you, badly, but you have to keep loving anyway."
Then, fearful he'd got it wrong, he quickly looked up at Onara, his heart pounding. She stared at him for a long moment, her dark eyes thoughtful. Then she smiled and Anakin relaxed.
"I think that's exactly what she was saying."
Anakin smiled at her, dipping his head the way he did when he was embarrassed, but was too embarrassed to admit he was embarrassed.
"If I didn't know better, Anakin," Onara said, her voice light and slightly teasing, "I'd think you were becoming something of a romantic. Keep that up and someday you're going to win the heart of some terribly lucky girl."
Anakin shook his head, but he felt himself grinning like an idiot. He was about to tell her that Jedi were not allowed to fall in love, then realized how foolish it was going to sound in light of present circumstances. Instead, he looked back down at the datapad and, scrolling through the file of Obi-Wan's collection of Nomi Sunrider's poems, found another that Onara had deemed her favorite and read it to her.
-------------
Warm are the lips of my love
Though hard with grief
And bitter with anguish.
When he kisses me
Both found and lost am I.
Obi-Wan slowly opened his eyes, the last lines of Nomi Sunrider's poem, which he had been quietly reciting to himself, lingering in his mind like an echo. He was lying on his back on some warm, if somewhat smelly, layers of skins in a tent the Whiphids had given him and Auna to sleep in.
At first Obi-Wan had felt trepidation at sharing a tent with Auna, in light of the suggestive comments she had made towards him earlier. However, her attention had seemed to be focused more on her ship than on him. After the audience with Big Yezun, he and Auna, after being given some animal hides to wrap themselves in, had been escorted to the crash site of the ship.
Auna, after thoroughly inspecting it, had told Obi-Wan she was pretty sure she could repair the damage, but it was going to take a few days. The two had therefore agreed that Obi-Wan would go on to Douro's camp and Auna would stay behind and work on the ship.
Now, as Obi-Wan stared at the top of the tent, he let himself finally release, for a time, his almost obsessive concentration on his goal of finding Sinja-Bau and allowed himself to drown in his longing for those he had left behind. He thought about Anakin and wondered how his Padawan was doing without him, hoping everything was all right with the boy. He thought about Onara, his breath quickening, his heart racing at the thought of how much he longed to look into her dark, winsome eyes, smell her sweet skin and feel her, once again in his arms, warm and soft.
And he thought about Ben. Tears stung Obi-Wan's eyes. He'd only had a few days to spend with his son who, he suddenly realized, was already two weeks old. Which meant Obi-Wan had just under two weeks remaining before the month Healer Eo had given Onara to live was up. The fact that he was less than a day away from Sinja-Bau gave Obi-Wan some hope, but the situation surrounding that hope was dire.
Having to deal with a man as ruthless and merciless as this Douro appeared to be and now being caught in the middle of a blood feud between the Arkanian and the Whiphids was not going to make Obi-Wan's task any easier.
He reached inside his tunic and pulled out the pendant. He held it between his fingers, felt its smoothness and its warmth from having lain against his skin. Then, just as he was about to open it, the flap to the tent unfastened and Auna stomped inside.
She was wrapped in the animal skins the Whiphids had given her and Obi-Wan to use as protection against the cold. Her head was also covered with what looked like the pelt of some small animal. Its long tail hung down the back of her head. Snow swirled in behind her, along with the wind, which kicked up the skins Obi-Wan was lying on. He sat up, slipping the pendant back under his tunic.
"Flark, but it gets cold here at night," Auna grumbled.
She walked over and knelt before the small fire Obi-Wan had built in the center of the tent. She held her hands before it, rubbing them hard.
"Is your estimate of the repair time for the ship still the same?" he asked her.
Auna nodded. "A few days. Should be no more than that. I'm going to have some of these lunkheads help me. Least they can do for having shot us down like that. I was pretty impressed by the number of tools they've managed to steal from Douro's camp."
Obi-Wan nodded as he turned his head and gazed over at the fire. Auna gave him a sharp-eyed look.
"Master Kenobi?"
"Hmmm?"
"Ya given any thought to what yar going to do once you get to Douro's camp?"
Obi-Wan continued to stare at the fire for a moment. Then he looked over at her.
"I still have hope I can accomplish my goal without having to inflict any harm or injury to anyone."
Auna blew out a hard breath and clucked her tongue.
"Yar dreaming, Master Kenobi. If ya want Sinja-Bau, something tells me yar probably going to have to inflict some harm or injury. Maybe quite a bit."
Obi-Wan shook his head, but did not answer. He did not want to confess he was beginning to feel the same way.
"And what about Big Yezun? He's not going to give ya yar weapon back unless he gets Douro's head."
"I will not get involved in this blood dispute between Douro and the Whiphids."
"But what about yar weapon?"
"A lightsaber can always be replaced. A life can not."
"Nah, I mean, you're a Jedi. How are ya going to function without your weapon?"
Obi-Wan sighed. "It is true that we Jedi look upon our lightsabers as more than just a weapon. It is a symbol of our Order and of our commitment to the Force. We construct them while in the deepest of meditations. It is, you could say, our life."
Auna nodded, although Obi-Wan could see by her eyes she didn't really understand what he was taking about.
"Yes, that's what I mean," she said. "It's your life. What if ya have to fight or something?"
"I hope it doesn't come to that, Auna, but if it does, I have been trained to defend myself without my lightsaber, or any other kind of weapon."
Auna shook her head as she took off the animals skins.
"Master Kenboi, I ain't talking about defending. I'm talking about killing. And trust me, ya be doing a great favor to the universe if while you're getting Sinja-Bau, ya just happened to take Douro out and brought his head back to Big Yezun."
Obi-Wan frowned, his mouth tight. "I came here for one thing and one thing only, Auna. To find Sinja-Bau and take her back so that she can, with hope, save Onara's life. I did not come here to murder. That is not the Jedi way."
Auna, who had piled her animal skin coverings in a corner of the tent and was now laying out some pelts to sleep on, stopped and gave Obi-Wan another sharp-eyed look.
"Master Kenobi, do ya love this woman?"
Obi-Wan looked over at her. "What?"
"Onara. Do ya love her?"
"Yes, very much so."
"And if ya had to murder to save her life, would ya?"
Obi-Wan swallowed. He stared at Auna, his heart beating hard in his chest.
"And if you had to murder to save ya darling wee one, would ya?" she went on, her violet eyes boring deep into hers.
Obi-Wan stared back at her, but just as he was about to answer, Auna looked away from him, waving her hands in the air.
"Nah, don't answer that. It wasn't a fair question. I know yar a Jedi. I know ya have to do the right thing."
Obi-Wan watched as Auna laid herself on her bedding of pelts, pulling one of them over her as a blanket.
"I guess that's probably why ya Jedi aren't allowed to fall in love, eh?" she said softly, her eyes slowly closing, the exhaustion he had sensed coming from her finally overwhelming her. "To have to pick between the way of the Jedi and the way of the heart. Can't be an easy choice for ya. Nope, not at all."
Obi-Wan said nothing. He continued to sit, the crackling of the fire, the howling of the wind outside as it beat against the tent and soon, Auna's slow, even breathing as she slept, the only sounds filling the air in which the answer to her question still hung unspoken.
----------
Tsara clenched her fists as she stared at Jerule. Whatever possessed her to get involved with such an idiot! Were all the men on this planet fools! If only Count Dooku hadn't had to leave.
"What did you think?" she hissed, as she paced back and forth in what used to be Edress's private chamber but was now Jerule's. "That K'lia was just going to hand Onara over to you?"
Jerule, who was wearing one of Edress' formal Dynast robes, gave her a dark look, but said nothing. Tsara narrowed her eyes at him. He had followed the Count's advice speedily enough about how to quell the dissension that had arisen in Kindah Province when it was announced that Jerule and not Edress's nephew was going to rule as Dynast.
A few public executions here, a number of arrests there, and most of the overt displays of dissent had quickly dissipated. Even Edress's nephew who, understandably, had been the most vocal, retreated quietly to his country estate when one of his most trusted advisers was found with this throat cut.
Now, just like all the men in Tsara's life, except, of course, for Count Dooku, Jerule was becoming indecisive. He had yet to response to K'lia's refusal to give up Onara and her baby. He picked up a silver-handed letter opener from off the ornate desk and fidgeted with it.
"The law is on my side," Jerule said hesitantly. "I have consulted with my legal advisers and they have informed me that I have a very strong case as it relates to Onara having been married to the position of Dynast and not to Edress himself."
"Legal advisers," Tsara sneered. "Bah! K'lia will produce an equal number of highly esteemed legal advisers who will argue the complete opposite. And then where will you be."
She walked over and stood in front of the desk, her face thrust angrily towards his.
"We don't have time to wrangle this in the courts, Jerule. We have to accomplish our goals before Kenobi returns. He's been gone two weeks. He could return at any time, therefore we must move quickly."
Jerule put the letter-opener down. He picked up a diamond-crystal paper weight and passed it nervously back and forth between his hands.
"What do you suggest, Lady Tsara?"
"Assemble your forces and move them to the border of K'lia's province."
Jerule's face paled. "You want me to go to war?"
"No, fool!" Tsara snapped. "Think, for once! K'lia has Assembly guards stationed at the manor guarding the baby. Once you move your troops, the Assembly will demand the return of the guards so that they can be sent, along with the rest of the military, to counter your aggressive stance. K'lia will have no choice but to obey the wishes of the Assembly. The manor will be defenseless."
Jerule shook his head. "Not entirely defenseless, Tsara. The two Jedi will still be there. Along with the security droids."
"Leave the security droids to me. As for the Jedi," and Tsara shrugged. "One's just a boy and the other is only a physician."
"But they are Jedi," Jerule insisted.
"So what if they are. Not even the much vaunted Jedi, I suspect, will be able to stand against the Red Tide."
Jerule gasped, his eyes widening. "The Red Tide?"
Tsara nodded. She put her hands on the desk and leaned towards Jerule.
"You now have the money to hire them, Jerule."
"But...but," he stammered. "They're the most deadly and feared mercenaries on Ahjane. It's even whispered they're not really human, but demons disguised as human."
Tsara smiled. "So much the better. The Jedi are said to be more than human. If there is any group on Ahjane capable of defeating them, it would be the Red Tide."
Jerule shook his head, the fear in his eyes clearly evident.
"I'm not sure about this, Tsara. I think you go too far this time. I was hoping to get Onara without having to resort to such desperate and, I daresay, dangerous means. Moving troops to the border, hiring the Red Tide. It's more than I bargained for."
As Tsara stared at Jerule it was all she could do not to slap him. Yes, she decided, she must be suffering under some vile curse to always have to deal with weak, spineless men. As soon as she got her hands on her great- grandson she was going to see that he received the training Count Dooku had offered, for if the boy grew up to be even half the man the Count was, he would be a most worthy ruler. He would not be weak. No, Tsara thought firmly, he would be strong and ruthless, the way a ruler should be.
"Listen to me, Jerule, for I will not say this again," Tsara said in a low, deadly voice. "You will assemble your troops and move them to the border. You will hire the Red Tide and you will, from now on, do as I say. If not, I will see that Count Dooku is informed of your actions. Or shall I say lack of action in carrying out his commands."
Tsara knew she was taking a chance for, although she was confident the Count had been very impressed with her and would, more than likely, back up whatever decisions she made, she was also not absolutely certain he would.
However, Tsara had noted that not only had Jerule held Count Dooku in awe, he had clearly been afraid of him. When Tsara saw the terrified look on Jerule's face at her mentioning reporting his actions to the Count, she knew her gamble had paid off. Jerule nodded at her, his throat working.
"I will do as you say, Lady Tsara. Yes, we must do as the Count instructed us."
"That's better. Now, pick up your pen and take out a piece of paper and write your first directive as Dynast of Kindah Province. Order your generals to move their forces to the border. After that you will take out another piece of paper and you will instruct the treasury to provide me with the sum of 500,000 decales. The sum I will need to procure the services of the Red Tide."
Jerule picked up the silver-cased pen and drew out two pieces of thick, ivory paper.
"But, Lady Tsara, how will you contact the Red Tide? No one even knows who they are or where they are located."
Tsara tilted her head as she watched Jerule write out his directive to the military.
"Leave that to me," she said.
--------------
"Hello, Father."
Obi-Wan looked over at the young man who stood across from him in the chamber of a towering black edifice. The walls, the floors and the ceiling were all made of the same glimmering ebony upon which a blood-red light, eldritch and fey, its source seeming to be the very air itself, flickered and wavered. There was nothing in the chamber, whose roof seemed to stretch upwards to the heavens itself, except himself and the young man who stood before him.
Obi-Wan stared at the man who had just addressed him as father, confusion wracking his brain. He had no idea how he how come to this place or why he was here. The man who faced him appeared to be about twenty, his face still boyish but the hard, sharp lines of adulthood clearly evident. He was dressed all in black, a lightsaber hanging at his side. There was a deep cleft in his strong chin, his lips were firm, but cruel, and his hair, which curled about his neck, was black as midnight. And the eyes. Obi-Wan gasped as he saw himself looking into his own blue-gray eyes.
"Now do you recognize me, Father? It's been so long. I wasn't even a month old when you last saw me. Just a baby when you left me. When you left her."
Obi-Wan's heart began to pound furiously in his chest. Then he noted that, although it felt as if he was in his body, there was a difference. He was heavier and he could feel a tightening in his muscles and in the joints. He glanced down at his hands and saw they were wrinkled and aged. He looked back up at the young man who smiled at him, but his smile was malicious and mocking.
"Yes, you're old, Father. And, from the looks of you," and the young man's face twisted into a sneer, "it would appear time has not been good to you. By my calculation you should only be fifty-four, but you look decades older."
As the young man spoke, he walked slowly around Obi-Wan, his black knee- high boots echoing softly about the cavernous room.
"Has it been rough for you, Father?" the young man asked, his voice sarcastically polite. "Suffered much, have you? Oh, I do hope so. I hope you have suffered every day of every year of the last twenty years. I hope you have suffered as much as she did."
Obi-Wan turned and watched as the man continued to circle him, like a predator examining its prey.
"Ben? Is it you? I don't understand. What has happened?"
"Don't call me that!" the man snarled. "That's not my name! My name is Malek. Lord Malek, ruler of Ahjane." Ben pointed at Obi-Wan. "Whereas you! You're nothing but a traitor!"
Obi-Wan's heart thudded in his chest. "No, you're Ben. My son. Onara's son-- -"
Ben struck Obi-Wan hard across the face. His head snapped back, blood pooling in his mouth.
"How dare you speak her name! You who murdered her!"
Obi-Wan shuddered as he swallowed his blood, but the thick iron taste was nothing compared to the anguish that lanced through his body at Ben's words.
"Murdered her? No, I would never harm Onara. I would rather die then hurt her."
Obi-Wan cried out, dropping to his knees, as Ben struck him across the face again, hitting him so hard he felt the teeth rattling in his head.
"Yes, perhaps you would have rather died than hurt her," Ben said, his voice low and cold as he stared down at Obi-Wan. "But we'll never know that now, will we, since she's dead. Dead all these long years. However, dear Father, although you may have been willing to give up your life for her, you obviously did not see fit to give up your precious Jedi principles for her, did you?"
Obi-Wan raised his face and looked up at his son, his heart twisting in his chest.
"Ben, I swear, I don't know what you're talking about. Where is Onara? What has happened to her?"
Ben raised his arms and head and screamed, his voice, tortured with both grief and anger, echoing through the dark chamber. Obi-Wan felt his blood run cold at the sound. Then Ben slowly lowered his head and arms, his blue- gray eyes burning with rage and torment as he stared down at Obi-Wan.
"Why do you feign ignorance, Father? You know what you did. You chose the way of the Jedi over her life. Now look at you. You don't have her, you don't have the Jedi, you don't have anything."
Ben reached down and grabbed Obi-Wan's chin. Squatting, he drew Obi-Wan's face close to his, the face in which Obi-Wan saw not only himself, but Onara.
"You are nothing, Father," Ben went on in a harsh whisper. "Nothing. Now, tell me, why have you come to Ahjane? To seek forgiveness? I can assure you, you won't get it. No? Or perhaps you have come to save me. To rescue me from the dark side."
Ben smiled wickedly and gripped Obi-Wan's chin. "You'll fail in that too, as you have failed in everything else."
"Ben, I don't know what has happened," Obi-Wan said, his voice throbbing with both confusion and desperation. "I don't know how I have come to this time or to this place, but I do know that you are my son. You will always be my son, and I will always love you."
Ben stared at Obi-Wan, then pushed him hard away and stood. As Obi-Wan looked up at his son, all he could sense from him was hatred and anger.
"Love?" Ben snarled. "What do you know of love? You don't even know what the word means! You're just a pathetic old man. You claimed to have loved my birth mother, but when it came down to it, you chose yourself over her."
"Ben, please, I don't understand. I would never choose myself over---"
"Mother, what shall I do with him?" Ben suddenly called out, interrupting Obi-Wan's plea.
A spark of hope fired in Obi-Wan's chest. Perhaps Ben had lied and Onara was still alive and she could help him understand this nightmare he had fallen into. He looked over as a woman walked towards him and Ben from the shadows of the chamber, her black robes flowing behind her, her wrinkled face burning with triumph.
"What else should one do with a Jedi, my son," Lady Tsara. "Kill him."
"As you wish, Mother."
Ben turned back to Obi-Wan. He unclipped the lightsaber from the belt about his waist. Obi-Wan watched, his mind stuttering with horror, as a blood-red blade leapt from it. Ben raised the lightsaber above his head.
"Goodbye, Father. May you rot in hell."
The red blade fell towards Obi-Wan.
"Ben, NO!"
"Master Kenobi. Are ya all right?"
Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Sweat was pouring down his face and chest and, for a moment, he didn't recognize his surroundings. Then he saw Auna's worried face peering down at him. She had been shaking him. He slowly sat up from the pelts he had been sleeping on and saw the hide walls of the tent, smelled the musty animal furs, and heard the wind whistling outside.
"Were ya having a bad dream?" Auna asked, all four of her hands on his arms.
Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded.
"Yes, a bad dream" he gasped.
"It must have been a rare one. Ya look as white as a ghost."
Obi-Wan took in deep breaths of the cold air until his heart had stopped its mad beating.
"I'm fine," he assured Auna.
She looked at him closely for a moment. "Are ya sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
Auna nodded and released his arms, rising and turning towards the fire.
"Is it morning?" he asked her.
"Yes. Early morning. Very early morning. These Whiphids are one for rising before the sun, I tells ya. I brought ya some breakfast," she said, handing him a stone bowl filled with what looked like orange mush.
"It ain't much," she went on, "but it's filling, despite the way it looks. And smells," she added, wrinkling her nose.
"Thank you, Auna," Obi-Wan said as he took the bowl.
He dipped his fingers into the mush and tasted it. It was not disagreeable and, as he ate more of it, as Auna had said, it was quite filling.
"Big Yezun said that when yar ready to go, ya can start out for Douro's camp."
"Good," Obi-Wan said as he finished the mush.
He made to get up, but Auna grabbed his arm.
"Are ya sure yar up to this, Master Kenobi. Ya still look a mite shaky."
"I'm fine, Auna. It was as you said. Just a dream."
Auna nodded and let go of his arm. But, as Obi-Wan went about the tent gathering up his fur wrappings, he hoped with all his heart that it had been just a dream and not something else.
To be continued....