Chapter 2: A Wrong Turn
First off, thank you all for the wonderful reviews! I didn't think this would get such a positive response! In response to the review, left by SamoaPhoenix9, this story takes place just before A New Hope. I'm afraid I haven't read the New Jedi Order books, seeing as I am living in a small, backwater little town in the middle of Canada. Let's just say for now that Belle's reading the works of someone with quite an imagination. There's a reason for this particular story, (Not just that ANH is my fav.) which will be explained later. ;) Cheers, and now on with the story!
Now, one thing that must be known about Belle's father Martise is that he is always busy. Even well past his prime, he still invented and tinkered with ever mechanical thing he could get his hands on. His inventions usually placed rather high in the fair that was always held in the big city that was held around this time of year, a fact Martise prided himself upon. Half the time while he was inventing, he simply forgot to eat, drink and go to the toilet. That was another reason why he loved Belle so much. She always was there to remind him of the important things in life.
Tonight was no different. When Belle called for supper, there was no reply. Just some loud crashing, maybe a curse that never went above "Kriff!" or "Blast it!", and in the worst case scenario, a muted explosion. It again fell to Belle to actually go down into the cellar and retrieve him, figuratively kicking and screaming. This time, however, he was weary and somewhat irritated.
"I just don't know how I'll be able to get that blasted thing to work." He sighed, rubbing the bald spot that had just begun to develop on the tip top of his head. "I'm not even sure if I will be able to get it ready in time."
"Oh, you will, Father." Belle smiled. "And you'll win first this year, I just know it."
Martise returned her smile. "You're a good girl, Belle." He said, wistfully. "You've got a kind heart and a good head. A girl like you deserves much more than a small, provincial life than this. If and when you get the chance, you'll be able to do anything you wish.'
"Well, right now," Belle said, seating Martise down at the table. "I would like you to eat. The next genius needs his energy."
Martise laughed as he started his soup. "Don't know what I'd do without you, love." He squeezed her hand and they began.
…
Sure enough, as Belle had foreseen, Martise got his contraption going. He left first thing in the morning, Belle waving until he was out of sight.
Martise whistled while he guided the bora that pulled is cart, with the invention on the back through the forest. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, whistling all the while, and stopping ever two hours to give the bora a rest.
Things went well all day, until the night started to close in, with unfriendly looking storm clouds threatening to block out the sun as it set. Martise was lost, there was no doubt about that. He consulted his map with the last bit of sunlight that was available for him to see the fine printing clearly.
"Must've taken a wrong turn," He murmured to himself. He nursed the bora into a slow trot, as he looked around. There was no mention of this trail on any of his map. He was in uncharted and possibly very dangerous territory.
A distant howl of a wild korba beast sent a chill down his spine. Korbas were the most dangerous predators in the forest, and one would not do well to trifle with one.
Speak of the devil, one leapt at the cart. It sailed right past Martise's head, the fur brushing against his cheek. The smell of its last unfortunate prey stank from its wretched maw, and there were sinister red streaks in the whiskers. Evidently, it now had a taste for blood.
And, as luck would have it, a whole pack of them now surrounded the small cart, circling it. A few snaps were heard from the pack, as they closed in. They were hungry, and though Martise was past his prime, he still had a few soft spots on him that a carnivore would find particularly scrumptious.
Common sense overrode Martise's growing fear, and he suddenly spurred the bora hard. The cart was off like a shot, running over maybe two korbas and possibly injuring four others. There was a collection of yelps and a couple of bumps underneath the cart. A crack of thunder sounded and the rain started to pound down. Martise squinted to see, but the rain fogged up and blocked the sight from his glasses. Just as he wiped them clean again with his sleeve, the saw too late the ancient tree in front of him. He swerved with the reins, too fast. The cart pitched over and Martise went flying. The bora got the worst of it, having flipped several times before the korbas closed in and began to feast.
Martise got to his feet, and instantly thanked the bora for its service, and for sacrificing its life for him. The few seconds of distraction it bought him had to be enough.
After several seconds of running, Martise came to a large cast-iron gate. A blot of lightning illuminated the dark, creepy and foreboding castle behind it. Any sanctuary was better than none in his present situation. He wrenched open the gates and entered the castle grounds, after firmly wedging the gates shut with a large branch. A cold chill ran down his spine as he approached the large wooden doors. With a mighty heave, he managed to open one and slipped inside. Martise jumped as it slammed shut behind him, and he entered the main foyer.
The impression Martise got from the amount of neglect in the grounds was that the interior would be in equal or worse condition. It would seem that he was wrong, for the place was well-lit and well kept. The large grand staircase looked like it had been there since the dawn of time, but kept polished and maintained every day. The place was deliciously warm, almost hot as Martise looked skywards to the extravagant ceiling that housed a grand chandelier, which glittered like a thousand precious stones.
"H-hello…" Martise called. No reply came. "I-I don't mean to intrude, but I was lost in he woods. I need shelter for the night…" Still no reply to his query. "Is anyone here? I need your help."
"Well, why shouldn't we?" A voice hissed, as if someone were whispering in close proximity. "Ulic, you know cold better than anyone and…"
"Hush, Ruan!" Another voice hissed. "I also know the Master's fury better than anyone. You know Master Baromeer doesn't like to be disturbed."
"A Jedi does not get angry…" The first voice taunted.
"That's not the point!" The voice, apparently called Ulic said.
"Look, you remember Hoth, Ulic." Ruan reasoned. "You remember how you nearly froze. Why does your heart have to be as cold as this poor nerf-herder is?"
"Who's there?" Martise asked. "Where are you?"
No reply came again. Martise deduced he must be hearing things, but where from the depths of his imagination did the words "Ulic", "Ruan", "Hoth" and "Jedi" come from?
He shrugged it off and dismissed it. Then they came again.
"There." Ulic said. "Now stay still and be quiet. Maybe he'll go away."
"Yes, Master." Ruan exaggerated.
"Mind you tongue, young Padawan." Ulic scolded.
Martise ignored this and entered a parlor on the second floor, where a roaring fire was now in full force. He decided to be seated and warm himself. It was quite enjoyable, sitting there and drying when the voices came again.
"Well, if you won't help him, I will." Ruan said and a soft clanking was heard coming into the room. Martise did his best to hide himself in the chair's massive size and slowly reached for a nearby fire poker.
The clanking stopped on the nearby table. Martise raised the poker and posed to strike…
"Whoa!" Ruan held up his hand to shield himself… if they could be classified as hands. "It's all right! Put your weapon away! I mean you no harm…"
Martise was caught off guard by the speech of this object, but did so promptly and apologized.
"No harm done." Ruan said. "I'm Ruan Marrian. I'd be glad to be of service to you."
"I'm Martise… You're a…"
"A candlestick." Ruan finished for him and inspected his arms, which had grown into the prongs for two candles. "Yeah, it takes some getting used to. However, is there anything we can get you?"
"We?" Martise repeated.
"Yes," Ruan smiled. "Myself and…" He looked around for a moment and looked to the doorway. "Oh, come on Ulic. Say hello. Or are you wound up too tight?"
Martise looked to the doorway to see a clack, obviously looking upset and nodded stiffly. "If you practiced your saber techniques as much as you did with your wit, young Padawan, you would have rivaled Darth Sidious as a swordsman."
"I thought I already did." Ruan pouted.
Ulic gave a hollow laugh. "Only in your mind, my very young apprentice."
"But onto the matter," Ruan said. "Anything you require? Anything at all?"
"Well," Martise said. "Perhaps a cup of tea…"
"As you wish." Ruan said. "Ulic, go fetch Tara."
"Fine." Ulic seethed through clenched teeth. He turned on what served as a heel and marched off in a dignified manner that drew a chuckle from Martise.
"Don't mind him." Ruan said. "He used to live out beyond a sea of dunes. Made him kind of a strange old hermit. Course, that's happened to all of us. We've not seen another living soul besides ourselves for almost thirty years now."
Martise's eyes widened. Thirty years was an awful long time to be alone. And not only than, but Ruan didn't sound a day over seventeen. Something was definitely wrong here…
However, he did not have time to analyze this, for a teapot now entered, followed by a small up. They introduced themselves as Tara and her son Dannik. Soon, Martise fell into conversation with all, while he sipped the warm tea.
The warm feeling hardly lasted, for not long after he was on his second cup and nearly dry, a large figure came in. It was tall, commanding and held a lantern. "What is all this!" He bellowed in a commanding voice.
Everyone ran and hid, all except for Ruan. He shook and tried to explain. "Master Baromeer, I…"
"Silence!" The voice snapped, and Ruan cowered. "What do you want?"
"Please…" Martise said. "Let's talk about this…"
"I have no interest in conversation." The figure snarled. "Answer my question. NOW!"
"I… I was lost in the woods and I need a place to stay the night." Martise tried to explain. "I'll not take up much room, and I only need warmth and shelter from the rain…"
"Liar!" The figure barked. His otherwise handsome features not put off by his off-blue eyes, were contorted with fury. "You've come to see the blind Sith Lord for yourself, haven't you? HAVEN'T YOU?"
"No!" Martise countered. "I don't even know what a Sith Lord is! Please, I need a place to…"
"Stay the night?" The Sith Lord barked. "I'll GIVE you a placed to stay the night."
He grabbed Martise by his collar and dragged him from the room.
"Oh, you just had to, didn't you?" Ulic said, mockingly after the two left. "Invite him in, warm yourself by the fire, and sit in the good chair, didn't you? Have I taught you nothing, Ruan? Have you not heard my words of the master's anger? Why did you not offer him a roll in the hay with Calis while you were at it?"
"You leave her out of this!" Ruan bellowed and went for Ulic's throat.
"Stop this, both of you!" Tara shouted and doused them both with steaming hot water. "This bickering is pointless. Ruan did what he thought best. You have to allow him to think for himself and make decisions on what he thinks is best, not what you think is best, Ulic. In his position, I'm sure you would have done the same. Now, we need to stop fighting and think of a way to get that poor man out from wherever Master Baromeer has taken him."
"But he's not really a master, Mommy." Dannik piped up. "He's only a Jedi Knight, not a Master."
"He's the closest thing we have to a competent master," Tara said. "NO offense, Ulic, but you can barely even hold your lightsaber anymore."
Ulic gave an unusually humble nod. "Ever since the receptacle's been breaking down, we've been becoming more like our objects. When it's finally turned to dust, we become those objects, as inanimate as the floor beneath us. We effectively die then."
"My son…" Tara protested.
"He has the right to know what's going to happen to him." Ulic said. "There's no avoiding the facts."
"There's always hope, Ulic." Tara said. "Love can and will find us."
"What about you and Calis, Ruan?" Dannik asked. "Shouldn't that be enough?"
Ruan blinked. "Who told you about me and Calis?"
"Mara, the wardrobe." Dannik said. "She tells me lotsa neat stuff."
"Well, I'll have to have a word with Mara then." Ruan did his best to suppress a laugh. Calis, the feather duster and he had always had a flirtation of sorts, but it was only now that it really began to develop. "But, to answer your question, no. If both parties are under the same Force bond, as we are, it doesn't work."
"Oh." Dannik's little head dipped.
"I think it's time you went to bed, little one." Tara said. "Come on."
"OK." Dannik followed his mother obediently and close the door behind him.
…
Martise was fortunate enough he got control of his feet before the stair, for the Sith Lord would probably have dragged him down otherwise, more than likely breaking a few bones.
He found himself dragged into a dark cellar, below ground level. It was damp, cold and foreboding; a dungeon in every aspect of the word. The Sith Lord kicked open a cell door and tossed Martise inside. He skidded for a little bit, before coming to a halt as he collided with the far wall.
"Enjoy your stay." The Sith Lord snarled and slammed the door. The click of the lock pins moving resounded throughout the dank establishment, replaced eventually by the steady drip of the defective plumbing.
Martise hauled himself up onto the cot beside him and huddled in the corner. He pulled his clothing tight against him, squeezing every ounce of warmth he could out of them. Belle, bless her, had insulated these, but in this damp atmosphere, a lot of good it did. Martise did his best to try and ignore the fact that his breath was freezing upon the exit of his mouth, and tried to formulate an escape plan. After all, the people who survived through tough times were the ones who thought thing through, and who stayed in control. They survived, and Martise was dead set on living. He ignored the dark humor of the contradiction and set about thinking.
End of Chapter
Whew…I'm on a roll! I do want to update on May long weekend, for it's an anniversary, (A full year since I've been into Star Wars. The Force has been with me for almost a year. :)) so I want to update on all my Star Wars fics. At this rate, I'll definitely succeed. Now, its your turn. I look forward to reading what you guys think. Thanks for being so kind so far. Ciao!
