A/N: Go. Boogie.
Chapter Eleven
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Vespasian gritted his jaw tightly, and pressed his white-hot blade into Darth Maul's gaping wound, earning him a soft hiss of a cooling substance. He did not pause for a moment, and quickly, but skillfully began to dig out all of the dirt and grime that had built up in his patient's shin over the on-month course that he had suffered in the castle of Gattaca. He heard the Sith screech in agony; an animal-like cry that chilled him to his very bones. The infected leg he was currently trying to mend began to spasm defiantly, and he held down all of his body weight to keep any more harm from coming to the badly hurt warrior.
Anamaria had no idea that such a weakened creature could possess such a potency. He struggled hard beneath her master's work, refusing to allow him to mend the embodiment Raphael had so brutally plagued. Desperately, she tried to avert his attention elsewhere, and hers as well, for the reeking stench of burning flesh was awful in the spacious room.
"Darth Maul...!" She stared into his horrifying face, and called his name. The Sith, however, continued to struggle under her helping grasp. Oh, dear God, what had they called him?!
"Kalaskein!!" There was silence. Maul's eyes shot open, dazed, confused, and utterly frightened, but he had stopped struggling nonetheless. His thin chest heaved with labored breaths, and the sweat seemed to be inches thick.
"Kalaskein..." Anamaria repeated again, "Calm down... shh... that's right... we're only trying to help you." She took his face in her hands, and pressed her brow against his, "It'll all be over, soon... just breathe..." He listened to her. Aside from the frequent whimper of pain, he was utterly silent, and concentrated on the girl's voice, and the breath entering, then escaping his lips.
Vespasian managed through nearly half of the process without any further hindrances, but when he did finally meet one, it was unforgiving.
A great amount of filth was lodged grimly between the broken tibia jutting ruthlessly from his flesh, and the muscle beneath it. There was no way that he could get to it without a larger working space.
"Marie..." He began gently. The padawan quickly looked up from her hunched position. "Yes, Master?" She replied. Vespasian quickly fumbled through his cloak's pocket, and brought out a worn, slightly fading handkerchief, and tossed it to the girl with a dark flavor about his eyes. When she looked at him questioningly, he explained with as few words as possible.
"Stuff it in his mouth after I tie him down."
Anamaria's eyes grew round, and bulbous as she realized what her caretaker was about to do. Despite her unassailable impulse to fret, and beg, however, she forced her voice to keep calm. "Is there no other way, master...? Any type of sedation we can give him...?" She asked hoarsely, for her throat was becoming clogged with tears. Vespasian gritted his lizard-like jaw, and shook his head with difficulty.
"Just do as I say."
He stood, and moved to the bedposts, lifting one of Darth Maul's arms against it. The amphibious Jedi cringed outwardly at the dire amount of bloodloss their patient had experienced, for he offered no resistance to Vespasian's force, and his arm was practically made of nothing but bone and flesh. As he worked, Anamaria offered words of comfort to the Sith, continuously squeezing his hand to show that she was there. Vespasian couldn't help but smile. She was always there for others, even if it meant her own personal discomfort.
He finished knotting the first piece of rope, and advanced to the second hand, which was currently being grasped by his padawan. She saw what he wanted, and reluctantly let him have it, and instead moved her placated touch to his burning face. Darth Maul stared at her unblinkingly while she comforted him, as if this little girl was his only link to the mortal world.
Vespasian finally finished knotting the last rope, and chanced one last look at the inseparable duo. Anamaria was still averting the Sith's attention from his wounds, and he was utterly thankful for that.
"Marie..." He warned her. The girl looked up, and, understanding that he was ready to commence with the operation, took the worn piece of cloth, and gently eased it into their patient's jaw. Maul, to their surprise, did not struggle. His golden eyes were fixed hauntingly upon Anamaria's, unable to tear from their link to reality.
Vespasian carefully wrapped his hands around the protruding bone, heedful of the appalling pain it could cause if he didn't use every medical skill he had ever acquired over his years as a Jedi master.
"Ready...?" He breathed. Anamaria nodded, moving her weight partly over the Sith's body. "One..." His grip tightened, "Two..." The padawan held her breath.
Without waiting for 'three,' the amphibious warrior's hands clenched tightly, and pulled hard on the fractured white bone. There was a series of sickening cracks, and crunches as the supportive structure reluctantly moved away from its home, and pushed the ebony skin away from its path. Darth Maul, silent until now, allowed his back to arch painfully as a muffled scream passed through his gag. If not for Anamaria's body weight holding him down, he would have probably injured himself even more from the copious amounts of thrashing his body had subjected itself to. Still, even through this, Vespasian worked his knife between the muscle and bone, hellbent on finishing what he had started.
"Keep him down, Marie... I'm almost done." He assured the sapped girl. And with one long, revolting SNAP the fractured shin was properly placed, and all of the dirt removed from it. The exhausted Sith's body gave one last jerk, and fell silent, if not for his labored breathing, and almost nonexistent whimper of anguish. Anamaria quickly pulled out the gag adorning his mouth, and threw it away, for the thing had become so soiled with blood it was unusable.
Falling back into her chair, the tired padawan watched in interest as Vespasian returned with his misshapen flask, and ever-so-gently held it against Darth Maul's chapped ebony lips, encouraging him to drink from it. Defiantly, the broken Sith turned away from his kindness, refusing to drain the flask until the patient-worn Jedi had to force-feed it to him. Anamaria snickered coyly as they went at it, fighting pride with pride. Eventually, though, with his hands still tied to the bedpost, the weaker of the two finally had to just give up.
Sighing, Vespasian held up the drink at an angle, and ran it down his dry throat until Darth Maul could take no more, and turned away. Anamaria stood, and, one by one, began to untie the ropes encircled fervently around his wrists. She looked to her master, who was busying himself with his operational tools.
"What's that stuff made of?" She asked, directing her eyes to the Living Water. Vespasian smiled as well as an amphibian could, and explained.
"It's very nutritious. Probably a bit too heavy for him right now, but still very healthy. Originally, I think, one should make it out of cow's blood, and milk... but, on a planet dominated by cats, a cow wasn't that hard to find." His smile grew broader as Anamaria's face paled.
A sudden knock at the door startled them both out of their conversation. Vespasian, fearing for their safety, quickly removed his lightsaber, and stalked quietly to the door. With a free hand, he turned to his padawan, and held a webbed finger to his lips in the universal sign of quiet. Indeed, the girl did just that, and positioned herself next to the bed if need be to protect the very weak, and very defenseless Sith beside her.
With a roar of intimidation, the water-suited Jedi flung open his door, lightsaber activated, and the very stunned Obi-Wan barely had time to duck before it whizzed over his head. Vespasian's eyes were wide with shock, and he immediately knelt down to help his nearly decapitated friend up, apologizing all the way.
"I may have been defeated, my friend, but I certainly did not ask for death!" Obi-Wan exclaimed. Anakin laughed nervously beside him, and Vespasian rubbed his head sheepishly. Well, at least the young Jedi was back to his old self. THAT much they could account for. He turned back to Anamaria, and waved, signaling that the situation was only a slight mishap.
The young padawan sighed quietly as she slumped down into her chair again, exhaustion beginning to take its unwanted hold. Her head throbbed in tune to her heart, the blood pumping agonizingly over, and over again into her brain. But... no. It was no time for sleep. She had to be ready in every aspect for their escape, and journey to Coruscant, for if any of them made even the slightest error, it could mean all of their deaths. No time for sleep yet.
There was very small, almost inaudible whimper beside her, and the padawan immediately whirled around, ready to help if need be. Darth Maul, with muted efficiency, was currently panting harder than a slave-driven dog, his thin chest heaving with effort to consume oxygen. Anamaria bit her lower lip in rising worry, and felt his forehead with the rear of her hand. She was troubled to find that his already-much-too-high fever had risen, at least to one-hundred and five, and the copious amounts of sweat he had been shedding were doing nothing to stop this. She quickly reinstated the soused cloth into her hand, and began to wash his face of the perspiration and grime.
Anamaria's eyes slanted in compassion as the unconscious Sith began to quietly whimper once more, his body lapsing into a fit of violent shivering. She remembered once, when she was very young on Dantooine, her master's milk goat went into labor with her kids, and she was left alone with complications. Anamaria, and her fellow slave Xander were the only ones left at the house, and Tindy (as the girl had called the good-tempered animal) was frightened beyond belief with the new experience. Xander went forth to help the ailing goat while he sat his friend on the ground beside Tindy's head, and pleaded with her to help him.
"But I do not know how to help!" She had cried, bursting into tears. The other slave gave her a sharp, but gentle slap, and told her what to do.
"Sing a song, Marie. Any song, it matters not which one. If you keep Tindy quiet, God will help her, and her kids." And sing the girl did. In the beginning, her song was tuneless, and jumbled words, but it grew, and growing with her was the little goat's strength. She patted her, and rubbed her bulging belly, calling her a sweet animal, and good old girl, and continued to sing.
Well... Darth Maul was definitely not a goat. But he was in great pain, just as Tindy was all those years ago. A broken, and scared creature who's only place in life had been brutally wrenched away; wounded and afraid just as the padawan had been. Anamaria soaked the cloth again, and caressed his face, frighteningly beautiful with all of the grime washed away. Rivulets of crimson spiking their ebony undertones, and somehow joining to form one broken visage. Truly, he could pass for Satan's brother.
Again, he let an unstoppable whimper escape into the air, and again, the girl was reminded of Tindy. By the council, she didn't want to sing to him, though! Her voice was awful enough to send a deaf gungan running for cover. But... well, she didn't HAVE to sing... maybe she could just hum the tune.
Clearing her throat slightly, the padawan began to sing her song with closed lips, and she was surprised to find that it didn't sound half bad. Darth Maul had quieted as well, and the only sound he made was a slight cough every few seconds.
Slowly, Anamaria's song evolved, and grew louder until her fair lips moved to form words. Beautiful words.
"Though we walk a heavy shadow, and our hope is nearly dead... little one, you keep on flying, like a sparrow to the end...
And when the willow spurs her calling, and the moon has laid her head... when the raven starts his singing, and the sky is turning red...
On this quiet, misty morning, as the moon lays down her head... when the raven starts his singing, I'll be homeward bound again...
We'll be homeward bound again..."
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A/N: HAHAHAHA!!! I AM NOT DEAD!!! See, over spring break, I went with my good friend Nariana to her aunt's house, and I think they're Amish, but oh well. Anyways, after I got back, I was immediately grounded by my parents under mysterious circumstances, and they refused me time to our computer. So, here I am. Chapter eleven up soon. (Song above was based on Simon and Garfunkle's Homeward Bound Again)
Chapter Eleven
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Vespasian gritted his jaw tightly, and pressed his white-hot blade into Darth Maul's gaping wound, earning him a soft hiss of a cooling substance. He did not pause for a moment, and quickly, but skillfully began to dig out all of the dirt and grime that had built up in his patient's shin over the on-month course that he had suffered in the castle of Gattaca. He heard the Sith screech in agony; an animal-like cry that chilled him to his very bones. The infected leg he was currently trying to mend began to spasm defiantly, and he held down all of his body weight to keep any more harm from coming to the badly hurt warrior.
Anamaria had no idea that such a weakened creature could possess such a potency. He struggled hard beneath her master's work, refusing to allow him to mend the embodiment Raphael had so brutally plagued. Desperately, she tried to avert his attention elsewhere, and hers as well, for the reeking stench of burning flesh was awful in the spacious room.
"Darth Maul...!" She stared into his horrifying face, and called his name. The Sith, however, continued to struggle under her helping grasp. Oh, dear God, what had they called him?!
"Kalaskein!!" There was silence. Maul's eyes shot open, dazed, confused, and utterly frightened, but he had stopped struggling nonetheless. His thin chest heaved with labored breaths, and the sweat seemed to be inches thick.
"Kalaskein..." Anamaria repeated again, "Calm down... shh... that's right... we're only trying to help you." She took his face in her hands, and pressed her brow against his, "It'll all be over, soon... just breathe..." He listened to her. Aside from the frequent whimper of pain, he was utterly silent, and concentrated on the girl's voice, and the breath entering, then escaping his lips.
Vespasian managed through nearly half of the process without any further hindrances, but when he did finally meet one, it was unforgiving.
A great amount of filth was lodged grimly between the broken tibia jutting ruthlessly from his flesh, and the muscle beneath it. There was no way that he could get to it without a larger working space.
"Marie..." He began gently. The padawan quickly looked up from her hunched position. "Yes, Master?" She replied. Vespasian quickly fumbled through his cloak's pocket, and brought out a worn, slightly fading handkerchief, and tossed it to the girl with a dark flavor about his eyes. When she looked at him questioningly, he explained with as few words as possible.
"Stuff it in his mouth after I tie him down."
Anamaria's eyes grew round, and bulbous as she realized what her caretaker was about to do. Despite her unassailable impulse to fret, and beg, however, she forced her voice to keep calm. "Is there no other way, master...? Any type of sedation we can give him...?" She asked hoarsely, for her throat was becoming clogged with tears. Vespasian gritted his lizard-like jaw, and shook his head with difficulty.
"Just do as I say."
He stood, and moved to the bedposts, lifting one of Darth Maul's arms against it. The amphibious Jedi cringed outwardly at the dire amount of bloodloss their patient had experienced, for he offered no resistance to Vespasian's force, and his arm was practically made of nothing but bone and flesh. As he worked, Anamaria offered words of comfort to the Sith, continuously squeezing his hand to show that she was there. Vespasian couldn't help but smile. She was always there for others, even if it meant her own personal discomfort.
He finished knotting the first piece of rope, and advanced to the second hand, which was currently being grasped by his padawan. She saw what he wanted, and reluctantly let him have it, and instead moved her placated touch to his burning face. Darth Maul stared at her unblinkingly while she comforted him, as if this little girl was his only link to the mortal world.
Vespasian finally finished knotting the last rope, and chanced one last look at the inseparable duo. Anamaria was still averting the Sith's attention from his wounds, and he was utterly thankful for that.
"Marie..." He warned her. The girl looked up, and, understanding that he was ready to commence with the operation, took the worn piece of cloth, and gently eased it into their patient's jaw. Maul, to their surprise, did not struggle. His golden eyes were fixed hauntingly upon Anamaria's, unable to tear from their link to reality.
Vespasian carefully wrapped his hands around the protruding bone, heedful of the appalling pain it could cause if he didn't use every medical skill he had ever acquired over his years as a Jedi master.
"Ready...?" He breathed. Anamaria nodded, moving her weight partly over the Sith's body. "One..." His grip tightened, "Two..." The padawan held her breath.
Without waiting for 'three,' the amphibious warrior's hands clenched tightly, and pulled hard on the fractured white bone. There was a series of sickening cracks, and crunches as the supportive structure reluctantly moved away from its home, and pushed the ebony skin away from its path. Darth Maul, silent until now, allowed his back to arch painfully as a muffled scream passed through his gag. If not for Anamaria's body weight holding him down, he would have probably injured himself even more from the copious amounts of thrashing his body had subjected itself to. Still, even through this, Vespasian worked his knife between the muscle and bone, hellbent on finishing what he had started.
"Keep him down, Marie... I'm almost done." He assured the sapped girl. And with one long, revolting SNAP the fractured shin was properly placed, and all of the dirt removed from it. The exhausted Sith's body gave one last jerk, and fell silent, if not for his labored breathing, and almost nonexistent whimper of anguish. Anamaria quickly pulled out the gag adorning his mouth, and threw it away, for the thing had become so soiled with blood it was unusable.
Falling back into her chair, the tired padawan watched in interest as Vespasian returned with his misshapen flask, and ever-so-gently held it against Darth Maul's chapped ebony lips, encouraging him to drink from it. Defiantly, the broken Sith turned away from his kindness, refusing to drain the flask until the patient-worn Jedi had to force-feed it to him. Anamaria snickered coyly as they went at it, fighting pride with pride. Eventually, though, with his hands still tied to the bedpost, the weaker of the two finally had to just give up.
Sighing, Vespasian held up the drink at an angle, and ran it down his dry throat until Darth Maul could take no more, and turned away. Anamaria stood, and, one by one, began to untie the ropes encircled fervently around his wrists. She looked to her master, who was busying himself with his operational tools.
"What's that stuff made of?" She asked, directing her eyes to the Living Water. Vespasian smiled as well as an amphibian could, and explained.
"It's very nutritious. Probably a bit too heavy for him right now, but still very healthy. Originally, I think, one should make it out of cow's blood, and milk... but, on a planet dominated by cats, a cow wasn't that hard to find." His smile grew broader as Anamaria's face paled.
A sudden knock at the door startled them both out of their conversation. Vespasian, fearing for their safety, quickly removed his lightsaber, and stalked quietly to the door. With a free hand, he turned to his padawan, and held a webbed finger to his lips in the universal sign of quiet. Indeed, the girl did just that, and positioned herself next to the bed if need be to protect the very weak, and very defenseless Sith beside her.
With a roar of intimidation, the water-suited Jedi flung open his door, lightsaber activated, and the very stunned Obi-Wan barely had time to duck before it whizzed over his head. Vespasian's eyes were wide with shock, and he immediately knelt down to help his nearly decapitated friend up, apologizing all the way.
"I may have been defeated, my friend, but I certainly did not ask for death!" Obi-Wan exclaimed. Anakin laughed nervously beside him, and Vespasian rubbed his head sheepishly. Well, at least the young Jedi was back to his old self. THAT much they could account for. He turned back to Anamaria, and waved, signaling that the situation was only a slight mishap.
The young padawan sighed quietly as she slumped down into her chair again, exhaustion beginning to take its unwanted hold. Her head throbbed in tune to her heart, the blood pumping agonizingly over, and over again into her brain. But... no. It was no time for sleep. She had to be ready in every aspect for their escape, and journey to Coruscant, for if any of them made even the slightest error, it could mean all of their deaths. No time for sleep yet.
There was very small, almost inaudible whimper beside her, and the padawan immediately whirled around, ready to help if need be. Darth Maul, with muted efficiency, was currently panting harder than a slave-driven dog, his thin chest heaving with effort to consume oxygen. Anamaria bit her lower lip in rising worry, and felt his forehead with the rear of her hand. She was troubled to find that his already-much-too-high fever had risen, at least to one-hundred and five, and the copious amounts of sweat he had been shedding were doing nothing to stop this. She quickly reinstated the soused cloth into her hand, and began to wash his face of the perspiration and grime.
Anamaria's eyes slanted in compassion as the unconscious Sith began to quietly whimper once more, his body lapsing into a fit of violent shivering. She remembered once, when she was very young on Dantooine, her master's milk goat went into labor with her kids, and she was left alone with complications. Anamaria, and her fellow slave Xander were the only ones left at the house, and Tindy (as the girl had called the good-tempered animal) was frightened beyond belief with the new experience. Xander went forth to help the ailing goat while he sat his friend on the ground beside Tindy's head, and pleaded with her to help him.
"But I do not know how to help!" She had cried, bursting into tears. The other slave gave her a sharp, but gentle slap, and told her what to do.
"Sing a song, Marie. Any song, it matters not which one. If you keep Tindy quiet, God will help her, and her kids." And sing the girl did. In the beginning, her song was tuneless, and jumbled words, but it grew, and growing with her was the little goat's strength. She patted her, and rubbed her bulging belly, calling her a sweet animal, and good old girl, and continued to sing.
Well... Darth Maul was definitely not a goat. But he was in great pain, just as Tindy was all those years ago. A broken, and scared creature who's only place in life had been brutally wrenched away; wounded and afraid just as the padawan had been. Anamaria soaked the cloth again, and caressed his face, frighteningly beautiful with all of the grime washed away. Rivulets of crimson spiking their ebony undertones, and somehow joining to form one broken visage. Truly, he could pass for Satan's brother.
Again, he let an unstoppable whimper escape into the air, and again, the girl was reminded of Tindy. By the council, she didn't want to sing to him, though! Her voice was awful enough to send a deaf gungan running for cover. But... well, she didn't HAVE to sing... maybe she could just hum the tune.
Clearing her throat slightly, the padawan began to sing her song with closed lips, and she was surprised to find that it didn't sound half bad. Darth Maul had quieted as well, and the only sound he made was a slight cough every few seconds.
Slowly, Anamaria's song evolved, and grew louder until her fair lips moved to form words. Beautiful words.
"Though we walk a heavy shadow, and our hope is nearly dead... little one, you keep on flying, like a sparrow to the end...
And when the willow spurs her calling, and the moon has laid her head... when the raven starts his singing, and the sky is turning red...
On this quiet, misty morning, as the moon lays down her head... when the raven starts his singing, I'll be homeward bound again...
We'll be homeward bound again..."
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A/N: HAHAHAHA!!! I AM NOT DEAD!!! See, over spring break, I went with my good friend Nariana to her aunt's house, and I think they're Amish, but oh well. Anyways, after I got back, I was immediately grounded by my parents under mysterious circumstances, and they refused me time to our computer. So, here I am. Chapter eleven up soon. (Song above was based on Simon and Garfunkle's Homeward Bound Again)