Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Anakin blinked grit out of his eyes and translated for Ryn. He could sense Evinne's nervousness, the collective fear of the troops gathered behind them, but Ryn felt sure, a steady presence in the midst of the turmoil. That was good. Probably.

The blue-skinned humanoids with the glowing eyes seemed to accept her proposal - that they search for caves in the surrounding terrain and report back - easily enough, but they were obviously skeptical of her insistence that they leave the engagement to her war-band.

"The presence of outsiders, however well-meaning, will be an added variable we don't need," she said decidedly, and Evinne nodded. "Besides, we have no way of targeting fighter weapons to spare Master Kenobi, and no way of gauging what high-powered weapons might do to the delicate balance here, in any case. Tell him that there are forces here he cannot understand, and he must let us deal with them in our own way."

"Right," said Evinne. "And that is ... how, exactly?"

"One problem at a time," said Ryn.

That didn't sound very reassuring.

The Force rushed in like a dark flood, drowning him in its immensity.

:Too much?:

The flood eased back, and Obi-wan found he could breathe again. "What ... was that?"

:Life.: Pause. :The life of this place.:

"You mean the Force."

:Force?: It was almost as though the entity fluttered, that sense of nervous uncertainty. :I see your ... mind. Yes, Force. But we are all Force.:

Well. "What are you?"

:Guardian.: The fluttering feeling again. :I take the dead.: Something ... twisted, just out of reach. :They worship me with death.:

Obi-Wan shivered. But the thing felt ... lonely. "That sounds a bit macabre," he suggested.

:No. I am Death, they give me Death.: A shiver of hesitation. :But now no others. Gone, all gone. Both gone.:

"Others?" said Obi-Wan, resting one hand on the cool, unworked stone of his prison as though he could reach her through the rock. "There were others like you?"

Sorrow, deep as the ages. :Others. Not like me. I am the end of things. Death.:

"Then what were the others?"

A rush of affection, sharp with loss. :Youth. Fecundity.:

The light burst behind his eyes so suddenly that it almost blinded him. "The cycle of life!" he gasped, feeling the universe fall into place around him. It was a very old philosophy, of course; the Jedi did not teach it any more. But he remembered ... Ryn had had something about it, three fingers clasping hands, joined in a circle, worked in embroidery on her old utility belt. He had not thought much of it at the time - if ancient dissidents from the Jedi Order had gone to Loreth, it was not so surprising they might carry forgotten the forgotten philosophies of the Core with them. But apparently here it was more.

:A circle, yes.: That was definitely approval. :Three. Always three. Gone now. Circle no more.:

"You are the last," Obi-Wan breathed. His weariness fell from his limbs and he stood straighter, enraptured. "How old are you?"

But he could tell the question did not mean anything to his interlocutor. :Old, yes. Ending. All things die.:

"Is that what happened to the others?"

It showed him again, swift images in his mind: the three women, beautiful as life. And ... a war?

:Gone,: the entity told him, and Obi-Wan realized that tears were running down his own cheeks as he stood. :Alone. They bring me sacrifices.:

"I still don't understand what you want me to do," Obi-Wan said quietly. "Knowing you are unhappy doesn't give me much to go on."

:The Empty One. Away.:

So this being wanted him to get rid of Omega. And somehow, she had given him back the Force, to do it with.

"I'll do my best," he promised her.

The earthquakes, off in the distance, were getting worse.

"I don't understand," Evinne said through gritted teeth, holding onto her frightened sleipnir's reins. "If the tectonic stresses are a result of the dark goddess's power, shouldn't we be standing at the epicenter? And we're clearly not."

"Maybe not," said Ryn, trying to keep a grip on her own mount. "The stresses could be a result of what we did, urging the fields and forests to reject Khalî. In which case, the epicenter could be any place of active resistance."

"In case you hadn't noticed," said Anakin, holding his mount with an air of great concentration that suggested he was using the Force, "this is all academic. We have to stop these quakes, whatever -"

"I know, I know!" Ryn said, because she wasn't sure she could stand to be reminded again. She felt on the verge of screaming already. "We're working on it."

Actually, the Chiss were working on it, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. On the one hand, the ciss were exceptionally efficient in the field - she knew that firsthand. On the other hand ... Ryn had a little too much personal experience with them. she was probably never going to be comfortable within shouting distance of anybody with glowing red eyes.

The tremors died away and the war-band set itself slowly to rights, detangling dropped reins and checking for injuries. None serious, this time - they were getting better at this, even as the earthquakes were steadily getting worse.

The Chiss commander - he had remained with them while his men searched the surrounding area in their fighters - did not look encouraged. He grumbled something Halbad - an old retainer from home - was near enough to translate, but it wasn't anything Ryn couldn't have told him already: things were getting worse faster than they could asses the damage.

The troops were watching her warily, probably wondering what kind of warlord got her help from the enemy.

Yeah, well, give me an alternative and we'll talk.

Evinne was more reasonable. She sidle close and surveyed the flyover with an air of grim resignation. "You know you could be brought up on treason charges for this, don't you?"

"Only if it doesn't work out," Ryn answered, matching Evinne's low tone. "In which case it won't matter anyway."

"Clever little witch," Evinne muttered, her admiration half-grudging.

"Well, I try."

She could feel Evinne studying her. "You okay, Shorty?" she asked finally. "Besides all this, I mean."

"If by 'all this' you mean my life," Ryn said, gesturing at their current predicament, "then yeah, I'm great."

Evinne snorted. "Yeah, okay, stupid question." She nudged Ryn with a shoulder. "Skywalker?"

Ryn glanced over her shoulder at Anakin, who was talking to Makesh. "Once we get Obi-Wan back -"

"No - I mean, how are you about Skywalker?" The older girl shot a look at Ryn's face. "I'm reading a lot of ... energy, there. Are you ... you know ... going to be okay?"

Ryn bit down on her lip to keep it from twitching. "Are you trying to do the whole sympathy thing?"

Evinne glowered at the skyline. "Maybe."

"Hidden depths, Ardel." Ryn nudged her back. "I'll be okay." She let out a breath. "It might take a while."

The noise of the fighters rushed over them, the ground trembled, and several of the sleipniri broke loose and ran.

"I hear you," said Evinne.