Chapter XI - Illusions
Anakin collapsed into a chair and reached up to rub his eyes, only to find the blasted mask in the way. He was exhausted, for these days he didn't sleep well. With managing the garage and training Luke's Padawans taking up most of each day, he had little time to consider what was transpiring on his homeworld. Nights, however, he would be kept awake by his concern for his son, the eerie visions the children kept having, and the struggle to find the link between the son of Zorn's lust for revenge and his assault on Tatooine. When he did sleep, it was a fitful slumber wracked with shapeless, foreboding dreams.
He wished Artoo and Threepio were around. The droids were always an odd sort of comfort to him, since it seemed that nowadays he got along better with machines than with people. But Han and Leia had left them and Chewbacca with the Elite's former second-in-command turned freighter pilot Sparky before going off on their honeymoon, and they were probably halfway across the galaxy right now. If Chewie and Artoo hadn't already ganged up on the whining protocol droid and ripped off his arms, that was.
Austin and Liberty were usually good company too, even late at night. But having only gotten back from Florida that night, they needed time to recover. That struck him as ironic -- needing a vacation from a vacation. He wouldn't know, as it had been so long since he'd actually taken one.
He glanced at the clock -- nearly three AM. Well, as long as he wasn't going to get any sleep he may as well do something constructive. He turned his attention to the stack of fan mail on the kitchen table that he could never quite get to the bottom of.
The first four or five letters were the usual requests for autographs from "your #1 fan." He addressed several manila envelopes and slipped a signed photograph into each, including a handwritten comment -- he detested form letters, even if individual replies took longer. Stamping the envelopes, he put them in his pack to drop off at the post office in the morning.
The next letter came from an irate (but anonymous, of course) sender whose mail was postmarked "Toronto, Canada." The sender demanded to know why Anakin dared show his face anywhere in public after all he had done. Anakin considered writing a tongue-in- cheek reply about how he hadn't shown his face in public in twenty-five years, but in the end he simply consigned the letter to his round file.
A Korean fan had sent a rather lovely pen-and-ink drawing of him, saber drawn and held in a battle stance, his cloak flared as if caught in a sudden wind. After writing a heartfelt thank-you, he mounted the picture on his wall, giving it a place of honor above the stereo.
It was the next letter that made him pause awhile:
"Dear Anakin Skywalker, I'll be a junior this fall at Theodore Roosevelt High School, and our Language Arts summer-school course is currently studying 'The Scarlet Letter,' a novel by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Our assignment is to do a project that connects the book to our present-day lives. I decided to write an essay comparing the book's heroine, Hester Prynn, with a well-known figure. As that figure I selected you, and am writing for some information.
"Have you read 'The Scarlet Letter?' If not, I have also enclosed a brief summary of the book. I thought you might find some connection to Hester, who is forced to wear a scarlet A on her dress as a permanent reminder of her sin as an adulteress. As you wear the life-support armor of Darth Vader, and most people connect that mask with the Dark Lord, it is, in a way, your scarlet letter.
"I hope I haven't offended you in any way, and I was wondering if you could offer a little insight on the subject. If you could reply by June 21st, I'd be most grateful. Thanks in advance. Sincerely, Autumn Taylor -- Mesa, AZ."
He mused over these words a long time. Then he got out a fresh piece of paper and began writing a reply.
"Dear Miss Taylor, It is not often that I receive a letter that touches on what has become my greatest challenge of my tenure on your world. Do not worry; I did not find it offensive. Rather, I was most touched that you recognized the burden I now carry due to my actions as Darth Vader.
"You are correct in assuming that I have not read Mr. Hawthorne's novel, though the summary you included was quite thorough. I must investigate the complete work when I next have the opportunity. In the meantime, I would be most glad to offer a few insights regarding your project.
"I can imagine Hester Prynn went through horrendous persecution. I, too, have dealt with death threats and condemnation. But I hope your class, in studying the book, touches on a central point to Hester's, mine, and everyone else's wrongdoings -- the will to overcome them. Some feel that when they have caused harm, there is no chance of redemption. But part of breaking free of the sin is in recognizing that redemption is possible. Simply because Hester is regarded as an adulteress does not mean she must continue in her adultery. Simply because my mask labels me to all the galaxy as a Sith Lord does not mean I must remain one. We can overcome our crimes, and in proving we have reformed we can also overcome the stigmata accompanying them.
"It will be years yet before I can be rid of the armor of Vader. But until then, I will continue to live not as my mask labels me, but as I am beneath it. May you, Autumn, also live not as others see you, but as you are.
"I hope I have been of help to you, and that you do well on your assignment. May the Force be with you. Sincerely, Anakin Skywalker -- Star City, CO."
Once that letter was ready for mailing, he flicked off the light and retired for the night, sleeping better than he had in two weeks.
Luke gingerly dropped the last body into the ravine, being careful not to disturb the remains any more than necessary. From the look of it, these unfortunate six had been dead for nearly a month, and desert scavengers had pretty much cleaned off the bones. All that remained on the skeletons were decaying tendons and shredded garments. The latter of these proved the deceased's origins -- the Kruvexian crest was still intact on each.
He gave a solemn bow to the makeshift grave and walked on up the rocky slope. Despite knowing they had been enemies, he felt nothing but reverence for the bodies he'd found. In a way he was thankful for them, for they were a warning to proceed with caution.
It was the sixth day of his journey, and he was nearly within the heart of Madman's Crown. Aside from the pirates and sarlaac, he had also encountered wild massifs, packs of womp rats, irritated rontos, and a very lost-looking reek someone had evidently transported to Tatooine for some unknown purpose. He was exhausted, both battle-weary and travel-weary, and his robes were in rags. A set of claw marks in his left calf muscle, inflicted by a womp rat during one skirmish, throbbed and stung despite the bacta wraps. He was sunburned, sticky, tired, and running low on supplies. The end of his journey would be a welcome sight.
He paused and felt around with the Force to see if the Dragon was indeed nearby. Her aura confirmed it, and he hauled himself over the last rise, not knowing quite what to expect.
Madman's Crown sheltered a bowl-shaped valley roughly the size of Star City. Within the circling peaks was the Tatooine equivalent of an oasis in the desert. Herds of banthas, dewbacks, rontos, and eopies grazed on the lichens, cacti, and desert scrub that grew plentifully on the valley floor. Magnificent rock formations dotted the landscape, and on the end of the valley opposite him glistened a small crescent-shaped pond, probably fed by an underground spring. Tucked away beneath a ledge near this lake was a stone hut not dissimilar from the one he'd lived in at Anchorhead.
Luke smothered a skeptical laugh. This was the abode of the feared and awesome Dragon? He began his descent into the valley, but his foot slipped on a patch of gravel and he ended up sliding most of the way down, landing hard on his backside next to a grazing dewback. The reptile looked up from its feeding, regarded him curiously, then returned to scraping lichens off a rock with its tongue.
He picked himself up and took a walk. The beasts pretty much ignored him, though a bantha calf trailed him playfully for awhile before its mother called it back with a stern honk. This must be a resting spot for the herds before they moved on, Luke theorized. It seemed implausible that they would actually live here.
He sidestepped to get around a snoring dewback -- and spotted someone. A woman, apparently human, sitting on a squarish boulder and offering a handful of cactus fruit to a young ronto. Her back was to him, so most likely she wasn't aware he was there. Was this another visitor to the valley? If so, why hadn't the Dragon confronted her? One intruder she might tolerate, but two...
The ronto calf looked up at him, its lips stained crimson from the cactus fruit. It bleated and thumped away, and the woman turned to see what had scared the creature off.
Luke gasped.
The woman's eyes widened. "Luke? Is that you?"
He was suddenly aware he was gaping, and he snapped his mouth shut. "Aunt Beru? What are you..."
She smiled, her familiar grin adding new creases to her aged face. "Oh, Luke," she said lovingly. "It's been so long, hasn't it?" She stood and moved forward to embrace him. "My, how you've grown up!"
He backed away, shaking his head, trying to jolt himself out of what must surely be a dream. This wasn't his aunt! She was dead -- he'd seen her corpse himself. But if this wasn't Aunt Beru, who was she, with Beru's simply styled salt-and-pepper hair, Beru's worn blue jacket, and Beru's easy loving smile? Was this a vision? A delirious hallucination? A trap set by the son of Zorn?
A hideous screech filled the air, and in a panic the animals of the valley bolted in all directions. Down the side of the mountain scrambled a krayt dragon, grinning savagely, eyes afire with hunger. It spotted the two humans and howled a hunting call, charging.
Luke ignited his saber. Whoever this woman was, it was his duty as a Jedi to protect her.
"Luke, run!" she urged him, grabbing his arm and trying to push him along. "Save yourself!"
"I won't leave you to be eaten," he told her, looking her in the eye.
"But why? I'm just an old woman, even if I am your aunt. I'm not worth your life!"
"You're not my aunt," Luke replied. A slow grin of realization spread across his face. "And you're not an old woman either."
The terrified look left her face, to be replaced with a calculating expression. "Then who am I, Luke? Answer me that."
"Simple," he replied. "You're the Dragon."
The krayt dragon was right before them, snapping its jaws and showering them with slaver. Luke waited until its head darted down for the kill, then gave it a swipe across the nose -- not a serious injury, but a painful one that would hopefully drive it away.
His blow didn't have the intended effect. When the saber connected the dragon's image wavered, as if it were a reflection in a pool that had just been disturbed. By the time he'd completed the swing, there was only air and dust where the beast had been.
The creatures of the valley were still a moment, then went back to their grazing and resting as if to say "Weren't we stupid to be afraid?"
A laugh came from behind Luke, a laugh nothing like Beru's, but a low, liquid chuckle. The voice that followed was likewise deep but still musical and feminine.
"Well done, Master Jedi. You have passed my test."
He whirled.
Where there had once been the impostor Beru, there now stood a female Tusken Raider, about a handspan shorter than he and regarding him with an inspector's precision. Her customary veil was snowy white and trimmed in gold, with a decorative golden fringe at the edges. Her robes were also white with gold trimming, and her body wrappings, though gray with wear, were interspersed with bands of snakeskin much like a Tusken chief's. Around her neck she wore a chain of dragon teeth that carried a jappor pendant set with a violet krayt dragon gem. Her gloved hands were held steepled before her, fingertips down.
"My hero," she crooned. "Totally unnecessary, but its the thought that counts." She nodded once in satisfaction. "I am impressed."
Anakin collapsed into a chair and reached up to rub his eyes, only to find the blasted mask in the way. He was exhausted, for these days he didn't sleep well. With managing the garage and training Luke's Padawans taking up most of each day, he had little time to consider what was transpiring on his homeworld. Nights, however, he would be kept awake by his concern for his son, the eerie visions the children kept having, and the struggle to find the link between the son of Zorn's lust for revenge and his assault on Tatooine. When he did sleep, it was a fitful slumber wracked with shapeless, foreboding dreams.
He wished Artoo and Threepio were around. The droids were always an odd sort of comfort to him, since it seemed that nowadays he got along better with machines than with people. But Han and Leia had left them and Chewbacca with the Elite's former second-in-command turned freighter pilot Sparky before going off on their honeymoon, and they were probably halfway across the galaxy right now. If Chewie and Artoo hadn't already ganged up on the whining protocol droid and ripped off his arms, that was.
Austin and Liberty were usually good company too, even late at night. But having only gotten back from Florida that night, they needed time to recover. That struck him as ironic -- needing a vacation from a vacation. He wouldn't know, as it had been so long since he'd actually taken one.
He glanced at the clock -- nearly three AM. Well, as long as he wasn't going to get any sleep he may as well do something constructive. He turned his attention to the stack of fan mail on the kitchen table that he could never quite get to the bottom of.
The first four or five letters were the usual requests for autographs from "your #1 fan." He addressed several manila envelopes and slipped a signed photograph into each, including a handwritten comment -- he detested form letters, even if individual replies took longer. Stamping the envelopes, he put them in his pack to drop off at the post office in the morning.
The next letter came from an irate (but anonymous, of course) sender whose mail was postmarked "Toronto, Canada." The sender demanded to know why Anakin dared show his face anywhere in public after all he had done. Anakin considered writing a tongue-in- cheek reply about how he hadn't shown his face in public in twenty-five years, but in the end he simply consigned the letter to his round file.
A Korean fan had sent a rather lovely pen-and-ink drawing of him, saber drawn and held in a battle stance, his cloak flared as if caught in a sudden wind. After writing a heartfelt thank-you, he mounted the picture on his wall, giving it a place of honor above the stereo.
It was the next letter that made him pause awhile:
"Dear Anakin Skywalker, I'll be a junior this fall at Theodore Roosevelt High School, and our Language Arts summer-school course is currently studying 'The Scarlet Letter,' a novel by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Our assignment is to do a project that connects the book to our present-day lives. I decided to write an essay comparing the book's heroine, Hester Prynn, with a well-known figure. As that figure I selected you, and am writing for some information.
"Have you read 'The Scarlet Letter?' If not, I have also enclosed a brief summary of the book. I thought you might find some connection to Hester, who is forced to wear a scarlet A on her dress as a permanent reminder of her sin as an adulteress. As you wear the life-support armor of Darth Vader, and most people connect that mask with the Dark Lord, it is, in a way, your scarlet letter.
"I hope I haven't offended you in any way, and I was wondering if you could offer a little insight on the subject. If you could reply by June 21st, I'd be most grateful. Thanks in advance. Sincerely, Autumn Taylor -- Mesa, AZ."
He mused over these words a long time. Then he got out a fresh piece of paper and began writing a reply.
"Dear Miss Taylor, It is not often that I receive a letter that touches on what has become my greatest challenge of my tenure on your world. Do not worry; I did not find it offensive. Rather, I was most touched that you recognized the burden I now carry due to my actions as Darth Vader.
"You are correct in assuming that I have not read Mr. Hawthorne's novel, though the summary you included was quite thorough. I must investigate the complete work when I next have the opportunity. In the meantime, I would be most glad to offer a few insights regarding your project.
"I can imagine Hester Prynn went through horrendous persecution. I, too, have dealt with death threats and condemnation. But I hope your class, in studying the book, touches on a central point to Hester's, mine, and everyone else's wrongdoings -- the will to overcome them. Some feel that when they have caused harm, there is no chance of redemption. But part of breaking free of the sin is in recognizing that redemption is possible. Simply because Hester is regarded as an adulteress does not mean she must continue in her adultery. Simply because my mask labels me to all the galaxy as a Sith Lord does not mean I must remain one. We can overcome our crimes, and in proving we have reformed we can also overcome the stigmata accompanying them.
"It will be years yet before I can be rid of the armor of Vader. But until then, I will continue to live not as my mask labels me, but as I am beneath it. May you, Autumn, also live not as others see you, but as you are.
"I hope I have been of help to you, and that you do well on your assignment. May the Force be with you. Sincerely, Anakin Skywalker -- Star City, CO."
Once that letter was ready for mailing, he flicked off the light and retired for the night, sleeping better than he had in two weeks.
Luke gingerly dropped the last body into the ravine, being careful not to disturb the remains any more than necessary. From the look of it, these unfortunate six had been dead for nearly a month, and desert scavengers had pretty much cleaned off the bones. All that remained on the skeletons were decaying tendons and shredded garments. The latter of these proved the deceased's origins -- the Kruvexian crest was still intact on each.
He gave a solemn bow to the makeshift grave and walked on up the rocky slope. Despite knowing they had been enemies, he felt nothing but reverence for the bodies he'd found. In a way he was thankful for them, for they were a warning to proceed with caution.
It was the sixth day of his journey, and he was nearly within the heart of Madman's Crown. Aside from the pirates and sarlaac, he had also encountered wild massifs, packs of womp rats, irritated rontos, and a very lost-looking reek someone had evidently transported to Tatooine for some unknown purpose. He was exhausted, both battle-weary and travel-weary, and his robes were in rags. A set of claw marks in his left calf muscle, inflicted by a womp rat during one skirmish, throbbed and stung despite the bacta wraps. He was sunburned, sticky, tired, and running low on supplies. The end of his journey would be a welcome sight.
He paused and felt around with the Force to see if the Dragon was indeed nearby. Her aura confirmed it, and he hauled himself over the last rise, not knowing quite what to expect.
Madman's Crown sheltered a bowl-shaped valley roughly the size of Star City. Within the circling peaks was the Tatooine equivalent of an oasis in the desert. Herds of banthas, dewbacks, rontos, and eopies grazed on the lichens, cacti, and desert scrub that grew plentifully on the valley floor. Magnificent rock formations dotted the landscape, and on the end of the valley opposite him glistened a small crescent-shaped pond, probably fed by an underground spring. Tucked away beneath a ledge near this lake was a stone hut not dissimilar from the one he'd lived in at Anchorhead.
Luke smothered a skeptical laugh. This was the abode of the feared and awesome Dragon? He began his descent into the valley, but his foot slipped on a patch of gravel and he ended up sliding most of the way down, landing hard on his backside next to a grazing dewback. The reptile looked up from its feeding, regarded him curiously, then returned to scraping lichens off a rock with its tongue.
He picked himself up and took a walk. The beasts pretty much ignored him, though a bantha calf trailed him playfully for awhile before its mother called it back with a stern honk. This must be a resting spot for the herds before they moved on, Luke theorized. It seemed implausible that they would actually live here.
He sidestepped to get around a snoring dewback -- and spotted someone. A woman, apparently human, sitting on a squarish boulder and offering a handful of cactus fruit to a young ronto. Her back was to him, so most likely she wasn't aware he was there. Was this another visitor to the valley? If so, why hadn't the Dragon confronted her? One intruder she might tolerate, but two...
The ronto calf looked up at him, its lips stained crimson from the cactus fruit. It bleated and thumped away, and the woman turned to see what had scared the creature off.
Luke gasped.
The woman's eyes widened. "Luke? Is that you?"
He was suddenly aware he was gaping, and he snapped his mouth shut. "Aunt Beru? What are you..."
She smiled, her familiar grin adding new creases to her aged face. "Oh, Luke," she said lovingly. "It's been so long, hasn't it?" She stood and moved forward to embrace him. "My, how you've grown up!"
He backed away, shaking his head, trying to jolt himself out of what must surely be a dream. This wasn't his aunt! She was dead -- he'd seen her corpse himself. But if this wasn't Aunt Beru, who was she, with Beru's simply styled salt-and-pepper hair, Beru's worn blue jacket, and Beru's easy loving smile? Was this a vision? A delirious hallucination? A trap set by the son of Zorn?
A hideous screech filled the air, and in a panic the animals of the valley bolted in all directions. Down the side of the mountain scrambled a krayt dragon, grinning savagely, eyes afire with hunger. It spotted the two humans and howled a hunting call, charging.
Luke ignited his saber. Whoever this woman was, it was his duty as a Jedi to protect her.
"Luke, run!" she urged him, grabbing his arm and trying to push him along. "Save yourself!"
"I won't leave you to be eaten," he told her, looking her in the eye.
"But why? I'm just an old woman, even if I am your aunt. I'm not worth your life!"
"You're not my aunt," Luke replied. A slow grin of realization spread across his face. "And you're not an old woman either."
The terrified look left her face, to be replaced with a calculating expression. "Then who am I, Luke? Answer me that."
"Simple," he replied. "You're the Dragon."
The krayt dragon was right before them, snapping its jaws and showering them with slaver. Luke waited until its head darted down for the kill, then gave it a swipe across the nose -- not a serious injury, but a painful one that would hopefully drive it away.
His blow didn't have the intended effect. When the saber connected the dragon's image wavered, as if it were a reflection in a pool that had just been disturbed. By the time he'd completed the swing, there was only air and dust where the beast had been.
The creatures of the valley were still a moment, then went back to their grazing and resting as if to say "Weren't we stupid to be afraid?"
A laugh came from behind Luke, a laugh nothing like Beru's, but a low, liquid chuckle. The voice that followed was likewise deep but still musical and feminine.
"Well done, Master Jedi. You have passed my test."
He whirled.
Where there had once been the impostor Beru, there now stood a female Tusken Raider, about a handspan shorter than he and regarding him with an inspector's precision. Her customary veil was snowy white and trimmed in gold, with a decorative golden fringe at the edges. Her robes were also white with gold trimming, and her body wrappings, though gray with wear, were interspersed with bands of snakeskin much like a Tusken chief's. Around her neck she wore a chain of dragon teeth that carried a jappor pendant set with a violet krayt dragon gem. Her gloved hands were held steepled before her, fingertips down.
"My hero," she crooned. "Totally unnecessary, but its the thought that counts." She nodded once in satisfaction. "I am impressed."