hollow-ambitions: HEHEHE quite funny, posting reminders on my reviews! it worked though, Shards of diamond came up with one more great chapter, so people, maybe it's a good idea to post reminders YA! lol
please keep sending me your great FB people! you're all being waaaay too nice, but it's doing my ego the world of good hehehe! (dont flame me for that eh?)
Hope you enjoy this chappie!
Soph xox
Time drifted lazily by, and Anakin felt as if he was laying on the side, in this dark, pain-filled void, watching, as small clips of reality floated by in tiny doses, giving Anakin quick, sharp jolts of realism. Every now and again, Anakin felt as though he could reach out and touch one of these clips, like a holoscreen, projecting an image, except these images were his reality, his life, that he could choose to leave or join whenever he desired. He watched, or lived, whichever suited the moment. He saw his Master, sleeping, on a bed, in room not so different to the one in which his physical self lay in. He saw himself, twisting, turning, and sweating, on a small, wooden framed bed at who's side a young woman sat, comforting his restless form. Sometimes, when he was in a deep sub-conscious state, he would see visions of different things, the past, the future, or the possible future, all too hazy, too painful to remember, he saw his mother, he saw the young queen of Naboo, Padme, he saw Obi-Wan's old master, Qui-Gon Jinn, of whom Anakin had not thought of in years, then people, he did not remember, places he did not recognise. This was the pattern that Anakin's sleep followed now, and this was the time he would normally wake drenched in a cold and feverish sweat.
"Relax little one, you were dreaming." Startled, Anakin's head snapped around, to get a glimpse of who it was speaking to him, he squinted, dizzy, disorientated, how long had it been since he'd last woken? Days, hours, who was counting? Did it even matter anymore? His gaze rested on a small, aged woman at his bedside. She had a warm, kind face, and her eyes spoke of sympathy and gentleness, though there was something awesomely powerful about her, her grace, her manner, her clothing, Anakin could not tell, but she was the elderly woman who had been with the two younger ones earlier, he had not seen her then, but he could sense her now, this must be their leader, he realized.
"Relax." She repeated, and Anakin let himself lay limp on the bed, he had just woken from a long, and profoundly deep sleep, but never had he felt so physically and emotionally drained, though he had no memories, he knew that whatever it was that haunted his sleep, was not something his mind or body wished to re-visit.
"Who are you?" He croaked, his voice was a rasp, and his throat protested to feel the slightest constriction, causing Anakin to nearly choke.
"I'm Sister Kumli, Abbess of this temple, and the sacred ground upon which it stands." Oh not again. Anakin had had enough of spirituality to last him a millennia. He wanted to ask more questions, there was more he wanted to know, where was he, where was his master, was he alright, what had happened to the camp where they were being held. But each time he made to speak, his throat would tighten ad throb, and a spasm of pain would cause him to cough. The abbess beside him rubbed the back of his neck soothingly, and he began to calm, lungs aching and struggling for breath. The old woman studied him with a neutral gaze, then turned to pour a smooth, creamy white liquid from a glass pitcher, into a small, rounded, ceramic cup. She held it a few inches away from his mouth, beckoning it towards him.
"Drink."
The liquid smelled sweet, and Anakin could see the white wisps of steam emerging from it's surface. Too weak, and too exhausted for disobedience, he let the woman ease the warm, soothing liquid, down his parched and dry throat.
"Swallow it slowly now lad, it'll loosen up your throat, so we can get a little water into you." She paused to lift the small cup away, Anakin lay still and took a deep breath, the ache in his throat had eased considerably, another cup was poured, and he was offered it one more time, an offer he gratefully accepted.
"You're still very dehydrated, we've tried to get you to drink small amounts of water from time to time but you couldn't swallow it, this'll help." He finished the cup, and it was once again replaced on the table beside him, he still could taste the sweet, milky flavour in his mouth, and it felt like the most comforting thing to him right now. He closed his sticky and stinging eyes, and focused his mind on the sounds in and outside of the room. The crackle and spit of a small hearth fire in the corner of the room hissed and flamed momentarily before settling, footsteps and hushed voices moved quickly past the door before fading into the numerous hallways. The soft tinkle of water hitting stone, as the elderly woman at his side wrung out a cool, damp cloth before folding it, and gently laying it over his forehead, he welcomed it's cool, refreshing feel against his hot and fevered skin, he opened his eyes once more and regarded the woman before him, she met his tired gaze with her strong one, and gave a small smile.
"How does your back feel?" Anakin considered, realizing that he was in fact, lying on his back, it felt slightly numb, though an occasional sting would lash through his muscles and shoulders, he had been through worse. Thin strips of cloth were bound across his middle and up to just below his shoulders, binding a warm soothing lotion against the wounds. He reached up a hand and touched his temple, where he had been knocked unconscious by one of the guards who'd brought him here, a small pad had been taped down against the cut, though the wound itself had also gone completely numb.
"It's…..much better, thank you." The woman nodded.
"We lay a poultice on your back while you were unconscious, it seems to have done the trick, the infection is subsiding, though it'll take maybe a day or so to completely clear, later on we'll remove it and dress the wounds properly." She sounded thoroughly satisfied with herself and she stood to pick up a pile of dirty towels and cloths, before throwing them into a basin by the workbench at the wall. Messy water slopped over the sides as the abbess straightened up, sighing quietly to herself, then rubbing her thin, spindly hands down her habit.
"My master….where is he?" The old woman sat back down beside him again, removed the now warm cloth from his forehead, soaked it in the icy water again, before refolding it, and laying it back against his warm brow.
"He's fully healed and up and running again now, and extremely worried about you." She gave him a stern glare, almost like a teacher scolding a student for worrying a parent unnecessarily. The image made Anakin smile.
Obi-Wan paced up and down the small balcony that opened out from his room. The view was spectacular, the only hint of the treacherous jungle that had been their nightmare for too long, was now a faint, swirl of mist-distorted trees, that lined the distant hills. It felt so good to be fully functioning on his own again, to have his lightsaber sitting dutifully at his waist, as it should, Anakin's hung on his belt too, he carefully removed it, and marvelled at the craftsmanship in his apprentice that had shone through in his construction of the weapon. It resembled Obi-Wan's quite clearly, but it had it's own distinguishable beauty, as did every weapon of it's kind, the faint, but sturdy durasteel, hilt with a glowing blade, as others saw it, to a Jedi was so much more than that, their very life went into that weapon, it was more a continuation of the arm and wrist, as opposed to a crude firing weapon, random and miserably uncivilized, a Jedi was admired and feared for it, though as well as an instrument of death, it was also one of great beauty, and craftsmanship, something his Padawan had excelled in from an early age.
The boy was healing, slowly but surely, and as keen as bi-Wan was for his apprentice to be completely on the mend, he couldn't fight the gnawing impatience of sitting tight and waiting. As stunning as this planet was, and as….interesting' as their mission had been, Obi-Wan was itching to get on the move again, to finish what they came to do quickly so he could return to the temple and spend the next two weeks in complete isolation, meditating, and resting, to try and filter his disorganized thoughts, and re-establish his broken link to the force, something he'd need to discuss with the council, something about this planet was having a distinct affect on both his and Anakin's abilities, which was probably one of the reasons his Padawan was healing so slowly. Obi-Wan sighed, and replaced Anakin's lightsaber hilt into his utility belt, he would practice his own preaching, he would be patient, given time, Anakin would recover, then they would be on their way. Right now, Obi-Wan's duty was to find the means of actually getting off the damned planet. With no ship, and no supplies, he would have to spend the next couple of days begging and pleading with the priestesses at the temple. Surely they had some means of transport, or at least communication. As caring as they'd been of him, and Anakin, and as hospitable they had been with the pair, they had been very reluctant in even letting Obi-Wan wander the halls alone let alone discuss the possibility of borrowing a ship. He'd have to be very diplomatic about this. He scratched his beard, this type of thing used to seem so easy, and it probably would be, it'd just take time for the calm and collected suggestions and replies to fall back into sink.
Obi-Wan walked the few paces back into the small, but airy room, picking up a data pad from a tiny glass table, his report on the mission, one he had still to complete, as soon as he'd recovered, he'd made sure to retrieve all his and Anakin's remaining belongings, lightsabers, cloaks, tunics, mainly the hidden documents Anakin had been carrying. Obi-Wan removed that same packet that was now hidden in his own tunic, every time he looked at it, or touched it, he felt a small twinge of guilt ripple through his body, Anakin was sick and injured now, because of this thing, his loyalty to both the mission, and to Obi-Wan, was now the cause of his suffering and pain. It saddened him, but also made him feel immensely proud. That'd definitely be added into his report, Anakin's bravery and resolve deserved to be commended. Obi-Wan pocketed the dispatched as turned his attention back to the pad, a few more days, it should take only that, then they'd finish this, for good.
