When Worlds Collide
Deep in her healing trance, Lydia didn't realize that she was not where she thought she was. Only when she hit the ground with a sickening thud did she come out of her trance enough to feel pain. And despite her Jedi discipline, she was knocked unconscious by the magnitude of the pain.
Slowly, Kel, Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, dismounted from her temperamental gelding Peachblossom, to inspect the figure lying prone in the middle of the jousting field. Surprised to find that it was, in fact, a body, she immediately called her close friend, and a healer over.
"Neal! Quick, I think she might've broken her back!" A team of healers placed her on a stretcher and bore her away. Kel abandoned the joust to follow, concerned about the unknown girl.
Inside a private tent, Neal, Sir Nealan of Queenscove, set to work peeling the sweaty, bloody, grimy clothes away from the girl's slim body. He made a face. "She might be a slave," he commented. "This is barely more than sackcloth, and it's filthy! Hardly hygienic."
He bit off his next words with a hiss of both rage and sympathy. Against the pale skin of the girl's torso were long burn lines, like someone had whipped her with fire. He called on his healing Gift and reached out a green-glowing hand to smooth the burns away.
The girl's eyes sprang open before he even got close. She babbled something that neither of them understood. Then she tried to sit up and winced in pain. Kel gently urged her back down. Studying the green eyes, she realized that the girl wasn't afraid of them, though she couldn't know that they were trying to help.
"Stay still. Neal's going to fix you up quick," Kel soothed. She knew that a calm voice quieted most animals, and it worked on people too, as far as her experiences had taught her. "You'll be good as new in a while. So lie still and rest."
"Rest?" The girl's voice was musical, and it slowed Neal down a bit. "I have done nothing but rest since I returned from my mission on Haruun Kal. I have had all the rest a body can take in a lifetime." She said the words slowly, as if thinking about the meaning of each one before she said it, and Kel was hit by a sudden flash of insight.
"You're reading my mind, stealing our language from my head."
"Not steal. Learning. I am not as telepathic as you think. Please, do not touch me. You do not know what is wrong."
"I'm a healer," Neal snapped. "I'll fix whatever is wrong."
"I, too, am a healer, and I have spent the better half of this century learning my healer's arts. Let me fix myself."
"Look, you're lucky you didn't break your back when you fell! I'm going to fix your- did you say half a century?" Lydia sat up, this time without the wince of pain. While Neal and Kel and she had been debating her condition, she'd applied serious healing to her broken ribs, fractured wrist and burns.
"I said fifty years. Almost fifty years, anyway." She placed a hand against the burns. "You are angry about these. I can feel it."
"Who did that?"
"My Master. I was stupid. He showed me. I learned." She shrugged as if they were nothing more than mosquito bites. "He is the one in the bacta tank now," she said without even a hint of pride.
Neal was shaking with wrath now. Slavery was illegal in the Eastern Lands. And this girl spoke of the beating her master had given her as though it were nothing. She was obviously delirious, thinking she was someone else. There was no way she could be any older than fourteen.
Yet, she'd fallen from the sky. Perhaps she had slipped off an invisible dragon? He tried to calm himself. She was looking at him with large, solemn green eyes, deeper and more clear than his own.
"Anger will consume you," she said softly. "Control it. Release it from your body, or it will turn you from light to dark." Her voice was soft and soothing. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap. She pulled her tunic from his lap and pulled it back on.
"Those burns will become infected if you don't let me heal them," he protested. She smiled and both he and Kel were struck by how wise she looked.
"They do not need healing," she said, pulling the cloth back to show them. The black flesh was gone, replaced by pink skin, only slightly raised. "I have tended to my wounds." She stood and a metallic cylinder clattered to the ground. At first glance, Kel thought it was a dagger, but she saw no handle. Neal picked it up and turned it over in his hands.
"What is this?"
"It is the weapon of a Jedi Knight," the girl said softly.
"This is a weapon?"
"It is my lightsaber." Neal bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Lydia held out her hand and with a small Force tug, the hilt leapt from his hands to thunk into her palm with its comforting weight. She pressed her thumb over the activation plate and the ice-silver blade shot out. It was dual phase, like her father's friend Corran Horn. If she twisted the handle, the blade would shoot out another meter, thinning, and turn cobalt. She never used it indoors, under penalty of disappointment from her father. The two knights stared at the light in surprise.
"Is that a sword?"
"It is, in many ways similar to a metal blade. However, it can shear right through metal. Even duristeel, or durocrete. I built it five years ago, when I turned forty." She lifted her thumb away and tucked the hilt back into her overrobe.
"You aren't from around here, are you?" Kel asked then.
"I'm not entirely sure where 'here' is, to be honest," Lydia replied.
"Well, here is Tortall."
"I have never heard of this planet," Lydia said thoughtfully.
"No, it's a country, not a planet."
"Oh. Are you an ambassador, than?"
"No, I'm a knight. My name is Kel. This is my friend Neal."
"I am Jedi Master Lydia Verim. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Deep in her healing trance, Lydia didn't realize that she was not where she thought she was. Only when she hit the ground with a sickening thud did she come out of her trance enough to feel pain. And despite her Jedi discipline, she was knocked unconscious by the magnitude of the pain.
Slowly, Kel, Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, dismounted from her temperamental gelding Peachblossom, to inspect the figure lying prone in the middle of the jousting field. Surprised to find that it was, in fact, a body, she immediately called her close friend, and a healer over.
"Neal! Quick, I think she might've broken her back!" A team of healers placed her on a stretcher and bore her away. Kel abandoned the joust to follow, concerned about the unknown girl.
Inside a private tent, Neal, Sir Nealan of Queenscove, set to work peeling the sweaty, bloody, grimy clothes away from the girl's slim body. He made a face. "She might be a slave," he commented. "This is barely more than sackcloth, and it's filthy! Hardly hygienic."
He bit off his next words with a hiss of both rage and sympathy. Against the pale skin of the girl's torso were long burn lines, like someone had whipped her with fire. He called on his healing Gift and reached out a green-glowing hand to smooth the burns away.
The girl's eyes sprang open before he even got close. She babbled something that neither of them understood. Then she tried to sit up and winced in pain. Kel gently urged her back down. Studying the green eyes, she realized that the girl wasn't afraid of them, though she couldn't know that they were trying to help.
"Stay still. Neal's going to fix you up quick," Kel soothed. She knew that a calm voice quieted most animals, and it worked on people too, as far as her experiences had taught her. "You'll be good as new in a while. So lie still and rest."
"Rest?" The girl's voice was musical, and it slowed Neal down a bit. "I have done nothing but rest since I returned from my mission on Haruun Kal. I have had all the rest a body can take in a lifetime." She said the words slowly, as if thinking about the meaning of each one before she said it, and Kel was hit by a sudden flash of insight.
"You're reading my mind, stealing our language from my head."
"Not steal. Learning. I am not as telepathic as you think. Please, do not touch me. You do not know what is wrong."
"I'm a healer," Neal snapped. "I'll fix whatever is wrong."
"I, too, am a healer, and I have spent the better half of this century learning my healer's arts. Let me fix myself."
"Look, you're lucky you didn't break your back when you fell! I'm going to fix your- did you say half a century?" Lydia sat up, this time without the wince of pain. While Neal and Kel and she had been debating her condition, she'd applied serious healing to her broken ribs, fractured wrist and burns.
"I said fifty years. Almost fifty years, anyway." She placed a hand against the burns. "You are angry about these. I can feel it."
"Who did that?"
"My Master. I was stupid. He showed me. I learned." She shrugged as if they were nothing more than mosquito bites. "He is the one in the bacta tank now," she said without even a hint of pride.
Neal was shaking with wrath now. Slavery was illegal in the Eastern Lands. And this girl spoke of the beating her master had given her as though it were nothing. She was obviously delirious, thinking she was someone else. There was no way she could be any older than fourteen.
Yet, she'd fallen from the sky. Perhaps she had slipped off an invisible dragon? He tried to calm himself. She was looking at him with large, solemn green eyes, deeper and more clear than his own.
"Anger will consume you," she said softly. "Control it. Release it from your body, or it will turn you from light to dark." Her voice was soft and soothing. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap. She pulled her tunic from his lap and pulled it back on.
"Those burns will become infected if you don't let me heal them," he protested. She smiled and both he and Kel were struck by how wise she looked.
"They do not need healing," she said, pulling the cloth back to show them. The black flesh was gone, replaced by pink skin, only slightly raised. "I have tended to my wounds." She stood and a metallic cylinder clattered to the ground. At first glance, Kel thought it was a dagger, but she saw no handle. Neal picked it up and turned it over in his hands.
"What is this?"
"It is the weapon of a Jedi Knight," the girl said softly.
"This is a weapon?"
"It is my lightsaber." Neal bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Lydia held out her hand and with a small Force tug, the hilt leapt from his hands to thunk into her palm with its comforting weight. She pressed her thumb over the activation plate and the ice-silver blade shot out. It was dual phase, like her father's friend Corran Horn. If she twisted the handle, the blade would shoot out another meter, thinning, and turn cobalt. She never used it indoors, under penalty of disappointment from her father. The two knights stared at the light in surprise.
"Is that a sword?"
"It is, in many ways similar to a metal blade. However, it can shear right through metal. Even duristeel, or durocrete. I built it five years ago, when I turned forty." She lifted her thumb away and tucked the hilt back into her overrobe.
"You aren't from around here, are you?" Kel asked then.
"I'm not entirely sure where 'here' is, to be honest," Lydia replied.
"Well, here is Tortall."
"I have never heard of this planet," Lydia said thoughtfully.
"No, it's a country, not a planet."
"Oh. Are you an ambassador, than?"
"No, I'm a knight. My name is Kel. This is my friend Neal."
"I am Jedi Master Lydia Verim. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance."