AN: Hi All. You are all such lovely peeps. I hope you all know I cherish every one of you. Please keep up with all these fabulous reviews. It whats powers me. Is the story moving too slowly? Let me know how these updates are settling with you.
We have finally hit the arena you guys. Thanks so much for sticking with me all this time!
Thankyou to my wonderful Betas :3
The Survival Trials
Chapter 13
Run!
The command echoed from somewhere deep inside and far away at the same time.
Ezra pushed off, and hit the ground mid leap.
Directly across, Number Eight was barreling forward, his wide gait ate the distance with every heavy footfall. The Dug was on his heels, and the Massasi was closing in, but none of them were as small and fast as Ezra.
The edge of the pit rushed up, without slowing, Ezra dove.
He landed on one of the crates halfway down, nearly sailing straight over it, saving himself just in time. He lost precious seconds re-locating the helmet two crates above him. Other candidates were landing in the Pit. Ezra scrambled upwards. Accidentally sending a box of protein packs tumbling down one side. He reached for the helmet.
A familiar tingle crawled up his spine, his fingers twitched and retracted on instinct.
A vibro-blade appeared with a thunk, stuck deep into the crate by his head. Ezra swung around and saw the Massassi at the base of the pile, lifting his thick arms to throw a second knife.
Move, Move! His brain shouted, and Ezra did. He struggled up over the crate, ripping the vibro-blade out of the wood as he did, vaulting over the box. A second and third thunk told him the knives were only an inch off their mark as he made his narrow escape. There was a roar that echoed off the pit walls and something red spattered across the steelum floor.
Ezra glimpsed a flash of helmet again and threw a hand out, withdrawing it again just in time to avoid a laser shot. He glanced back to see the Nikto had pulled a WAPC blaster out of the pile.
The shot might have been mis-fire. The Nikto had turned to face down the Trandoshan and the Massassi. With the big game distracting each other, Ezra took his chance.
Snatching the helmet up in the same hand as the vibro-knife, Ezra slithered down the pile and threw himself into the flattened metal wall narrowly dodging the Rodian as he was thrown clear across the pit.
Ezra ducked to avoid being skewered by a falling box of spears and spied a grey and blue backpack leaning against a crate.
"Today must be my lucky day," He muttered, barley hearing his own voice over the sound of the battle close by. Blaster fire was spraying the walls, showering them all with sparks. Someone cried out close by and Ezra had to steel himself from looking.
He snatched the backpack, swung it over his shoulder, and bounded up the pile. One glance told him the Dug was climbing out as well and, yes the Trandoshan and the Nikto were now facing off. The Massassi was tearing into some poor soul with a long jagged rapier. Ezra blinked and saw the pale thin woman laying still, a long silver spear stuck through her middle. Her eyes were open wide but her body was slack and pale.
Ezra was struck, feeling blank with shock, but not for long. The Massasi was coming to his feet and the Nikto had managed to put some distance between the Trandoshan.
The lizard must have felt Ezra's gaze because his snout snapped in Ezra's direction.
Ezra felt his heart skip and he launched himself at the wall in one desperate jump, he latched his fingers onto the edge. Swinging a leg over, he scrambled out of the pit.
The clearing was empty except three slumped bodies and the Graan who was running towards him. He was a good distance away, but Ezra stumbled to his feet and bolted in the opposite direction.
He didn't look to see if the Graan was following, he just ran, flat out, as fast as he could move. His lungs were already burning and his mind itching with fear. But nothing could overshadow the roar of blood in his ears.
The backpack bounced on his back uncomfortably, but all Ezra focused on was staying upright as he neared the treeline. The branches closed on either side, but Ezra kept running, barley dodging uplifted roots.
He kept up this speed for some time, his brain blank of all but a need to put as much distance between himself and the pit as possible. His chest burned.
The trees began to slowly change from large thick tall trunks into low coiled branches with spiny thorns. Mindful not to brush the nasty looking flora, Ezra stumbled to a halt. His knees locked shakily and he puffed breathlessly as he dropped the helmet on the ground as carefully as he had mind to and knelt his hands on his thighs, gasping for breath.
Everything shook, his brain fizzled and his heart was punching against his sternum. But Ezra couldn't resist the trembling smile that spread over his face.
He'd done it. He'd gotten in an out of the Pit, and survived. He thought suddenly of the red splatter and how fast everything had been moving. His mind was suddenly reeling again.
It might have been all the running, or the thought of the carnage he'd left behind, or more likely, the adrenalin, but without warning, a bubble of laughter escaped his burning throat. Ezra turned his head upwards, squinting into the sunlight through the oddly coloured leaves and grinned.
"Not bad for blaster fodder, hey?"
There was an unexpected answer. A loud echoing boom that sounded like thunder. He jumped and spun around, bracing for an attack.
There was no one there, but another boom filled the air, followed by another.
One, two... seven in all.
Ezra thought hard, trying to connect the number. He thought of the bodies slumped in the clearing, Numbers Three and Twenty-two in the pit. If the Canon fire counted the candidates that had been... eliminated, then that meant the twenty-four of them had already been cut down to just seventeen.
He snatched the helmet, switched it on and shoved it over his head. He instantly felt a weight lifting off his shoulders now that his face was hidden. The crown wasn't as armored as he have liked, but the lack of plating had made additional space for the internal electronics and back up power-drives.
It fit loosely, but with some wiggling he found a way to sit it comfortably in place. A holo-counter appeared in the corner of the visor, telling him exactly how far away he was from the tree directly in front of him. Ezra switched through the settings, there was no communication link, wireless output, or holo-lense capabilities. His heart sank for just a moment.
Still, the specs were impressive. Ezra doubted even Sabine's helmet had these kind of upgrades. It was outfitted with the usual: a targeting viewpoint, night-vision, distance counter, macro-binocular settings. But it also had features Ezra had never seen available to the everyday bucket head: heat sensors, pattern detection, and what he suspected might be a compass.
He turned on the spot, watching the numbers skate across the veiwfinder. The movement made him a little dizzy and he thought about sitting down to rest.
He was about to collapse onto his rump, when an awful shudder shot up his spine. He turned and the visor immediately made itself useful, as the motion sensors scanned the dense forest scape the way he'd come.
Ezra felt his heart constrict when the target system narrowed in and highlighted a flash of dark green scales deep in the shadows of the trees.
The hunter must have sensed he was caught, but this clearly didn't phase him. He walked straight out of the scrub into full sight and faced the boy with a clear smile. His suit was already torn in places across his thick arms, but he didn't appear at all injured from his battles in the Pit. In one claw he held something long, black and hefty. Number Eight parted his scaly lips and breathed deeply, his nostrils flaring.
Ezra threw himself back into motion, pumping his legs through the grass, dodging rocks and clutching the straps of the backpack.
Run.
Kanan's heart was in his throat as the countdown alarm rang out.
The candidates exploded into movement.
Every single fodder entrant ran away from the pit, ran for the tree-line: all except Ezra.
Kanan felt his chest constrict as the cam feed barely registered the boy making a beeline for the pit. Ezra had always been fast, but speed the kid was bolting at even surprised Kanan. The candidates with longer gaits were falling behind as Ezra closed in. If only he'd run in the right direction.
Ezra was the first to reach it.
On the other side of the pile, the Trandoshan had landed a handful of seconds after and pulled a black shiney club out of the weapons, turned around and immediately swung it into Niktos chest who landed behind him. The creature went flying into the pit wall, though still alive, picked himself up quickly and made a grab for the shiny WAPC blaster placed conspicuously on a low crate.
The Massassi's landed on his feet with a powerful thud, and reached for the first weapon that came to hand: a set of long handed throwing knives.
He pulled an arm back and turned, to the crews horror, to set his sights on Ezra's back as the boy climbed over the crates and streched his hand out for the peak of the pile. The volume in the bar rose in anticipating gasp...
The next second, Ezra had whipped his hand back just as the knife settled in the wood of a food crate to the audible disappointment of the crowd.
Ezra threw his wide eyes back on the Massasi, glowered, and shot over the pile. A helmet gripped in one hand and the Massassi's knife in the other.
It was bedlam now. The bar crowd cheered. The feed was jumping from candidate to candidate. Numbers Eight, the Transdoshian, was the focus of four separate holo-screens. Kanan whipped his head around, searching for the screen that might be focused on number Six.
He saw a flash of the aubresh tattoo across the room. Shooting to his feet, he shoved his way through the crowd, Zeb widening the way for Sabine to follow.
They watched Ezra flying down the pile, while the rest of the candidates willing to try were reaching the pit edge. Kanan thought he saw Ezra disappear behind a crate, but he wasn't sure. The holo-cams frame was flashing around, trying to capture as much of the bloodshed as possible.
The Massassi made the first kill, and the Trandoshan made the second, Sixteen and Twenty-four were down.
The Valarian woman died when the Dug thrust a spear into her middle, and the Gotal was shot through the chest with a red laser by the Nikto.
The crowd was suddenly roaring, sentients shifting to mob the different displays to see the slaughter.
"Kanan," Sabine yanked at his arm.
He tore his eyes away from the screen and saw the girl was tapping her wrist com.
He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment there was a huge swell in the volume of the crowd, cries of surprise and excitement.
He jerked back around, a knot already dragging his stomach into his boots and saw Ezra. The boy was digging his fingers into the grass and dragging himself on his stomach over the edge of the Pit. Kanan felt a flood of relief, which was quickly siphoned away when the holocam feed focused on the Grann candidate running straight for the boy.
The kid's wide eyes flashed with panic, and then he was on his feet, seconds later, vanishing into the trees.
"Kanan!"
Zeb's hands turned him around and Kanan looked to the Mandolorian girl who was waving her wrist com around.
"What is it?
"I can't scan the holochannel it's being broadcast from," she hissed. "I think there might be a jammer in the back." She pointed a thumb over her shoulder towards the bar. "If you give me time to get back there..."
Kanan was already nodding, "We'll get you back there, you just I.D. that signal."
Sabine turned without another word, squeezing her way through the crowd.
"I guess we're running interference?" Zeb growled with relish, cracking his knuckles and eyeing the rowdy patrons.
"Try to make look organic." Kanan said, glancing at the holo-screens around the room. None of them were showing Six. "The last thing we need is to warn anyone up top what we're up too."
Zen grumbled his agreement, his gaze sweeping the room. A group in the back were beginning to chant, egging on the candidates in screen. The Nikto was scaling the wall, and avoided certain death by shoving another candidate into the path of the Massasi's throwing knife.
The table all belted out laughter and Zebs eyes flashed.
Kanan threw a glance towards the bar. The attendants were busy running orders, but the large Feeorin stood back with his thick arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were scanning the room, and now Kanan noticed a panel in the blank wall behind him.
Sabine had her back to them, her arms folded on top of the bar while she waiting for her opportunity. Kanan frowned, the barkeep likely wouldn't leave his position unless he was forced to.
On the screens, the Dug climb out of the Pit and launched a javelin through the air, bursting through the Graan's chest.
The bar crowd cheered. At the table beside him, a Gotal threw up his fists and groaned with disappointment while his friend clapped him on the back. The Grann slumped to the ground, twitching.
How was this even happening? Kanan couldn't explain it, but even he felt somehow unaffected from the on-screen deaths. They didn't feel... real. The slaughter felt distant somehow. It was an oddly remarkable feat on the organizers' part, the effect left the gamblers feeling completely absolved for their involvement. No wonder the Trials had survived this long in the underground.
Kanan felt his brow tighten, a bubble of anger rising to the surface. If the Makers were this clever, finding their location would not be easy.
The Pit was nearly empty, all bar the Trandoshan, the Massassi, and an unfortunate Duro that was cowering on the ground.
The Duro abandoned spear as the Massassi turned to face him. He threw up his hands in surrender. "Please, I won't..."
His words were cut short as the Massassi plunged a blade deep into his throat, kicked the body away and then turned to face the Trandoshan: Number Eight.
The tension could be felt in the bar as the two main candidates faced off.
The scaly hands twitched, eyes flashed, and then the Trandoshan snarled and leaped for the wall.
The Massassi didn't pursue him, allowing the reptile to escape. The blood splatter on his snout was barley visible against his red flesh. He turned and began to sort through the chaos of bodies and supplies at his leisure.
As the candidate's departed the pit, the bodies in the bar were starting to circulate as the different screens began to separate the candidate footage. An equal half showed the blood red Massasi, and the Trandoshan. The rest were filtered between the other competitors, but none were focused on Number Six.
Kanan saw the Trandoshan taste the air at the edge of the clearing, his nostrils flaring before he melted into the shadows of patchwork forest. An uncomfortable pressure welled in his chest.
The atmosphere in the room abated, softening to an excited buzz. More bodies moved towards the bar, and the Feeorin moved to serve the customers waving credits in the air. Sabine was still in position.
Kanan inclined his head, just an inch and thumbed his blaster under his cloak, though he itched to reach for his light-saber instead.
Zeb's ears flattened in response to the signal, but he pricked them up with effort and moved off through the crowd.
Sabine saw the Lasat move, and put herself into action.
She slapped another credit stack on the counter, silently thankful for the monetary support of Alderannian councilman. An attendant turned at the sound of her money, and approached.
"How does the betting work?" She demanded before he could speak.
He frowned for a moment, then eyed her hefty credit stack and thought better of questioning why she didn't already know.
"You pay for feed time per candidate. The candidates with the most support are the ones that receive the most holo time. You can slot bets on the outcomes, payouts are calculated per prediction. You can also purchase support chutes for the candidate of your choice."
She could send Ezra some help? Supplies maybe? A message? "How much are the chutes?"
He flipped around his bulky datapad and Sabine felt her eyes widen at the price list. A mere handful of fire starters cost nearly three times what she had on her. Further down the list a short range blaster nearly equaled the price of a small gunship.
"I want all of this," she said, pushing the two stacks of credits towards the attendant, "On... Number Six."
The attendant looked as if he was going to question her choice, but had second thoughts and processed the bet. He slid her a thin data chip on the bar in return. A few seconds later, the screen beside her flickered and Ezra appeared.
He was coming to a stop, panting for breath, and then took off running again.
"How do you control what the screens show?" She asked, grudgingly interested in the complexity of the system.
He shrugged, his brow furrowing at her insistent questions. "You pay, I process it. Everything else is processed upstairs."
She could hear a bubble disagreement from the back of the room, she didn't need to turn around to know Zeb had picked a fight.
"How do I collect on bets?"
"Are you making one?" He asked, his expression distracted flickering between the bartender and he ruckus in the back.
She shook her head, biting down on any remarks she wanted to say about collecting on the lives being lost in the Pit.
"Then you don't need to know." He told her, and moved down the counter.
The attendant spoke to the Feeorin whose eyes flickered briefly in her direction.
If he had suspicions, he never had a chance to act on them.
There was a loud crash towards the back, and a shout of fury.
The Feeorin wasted no time, vaulting over the counter with a chunky barreled blaster in on hand.
Before he could take aim on the men brawling in the back, a shot from the crowd knocked the blaster out of his hands. The blaster exploded, and the huge barkeep was thrown back onto his own counter, taking down a row of customers.
Sabine didn't stay and watch. Two stun blasts from her pistols and the two attendants were down. Two more took out the security cams overlooking the small cantina door. She slid into the back room, unnoticed.
The rest of the bar had exploded into action. Zeb was having a great deal of fun ducking blaster shots and slamming skulls together, while Kanan sailed over tables picking off the few willing to put up a fight. A large Duro tried to take his head with a wide swipe of a his vibro-blade.
Kanan ducked, taking the Duro's legs out from under him with a sweeping kick and putting him down with a stun shot.
Between them, Zen and Kanan had put down more then half the cantina. The rest had fled for the door or tipped over tables and taken cover.
They would have easily cleared the room, had the large holoscreen stayed focused on the Dug creeping along the forest floor.
But the feed had changed, now showing a lone skinny humanoid youngling standing in the center of a clearing of low hanging trees. He was wearing a silver grey helmet with two large blue eye ports…. It was the same helmet they'd seen Ezra grab as he fled the Pit.
The Trandoshan came into focus behind the boy, standing in the shadows of the trees not a yard away.
Ezra hadn't noticed him yet! Kanan felt cold terror close on his heart.
A force threw him sideways into wall, Kanan caught himself and shook the ringing out of his ears. The Feeorin bartender had risen to his feet, but before either one could fire, Zeb broke a bar stool over the barkeeps thick head and brought him too his knees.
The remaining thugs took advantage of his distraction, and began firing on the two upstarts in unison. Zeb and Kanan were forced to take cover behind an upturned table.
"Kriff this!" Zeb growled, and pulled out one of Sabine's little miracles from his belt. He twisted the cap and tossed it to the back of the room.
It went off with a muted boom. The walls shivered, the blaster fire ceased. A siren began to wail on the floor above.
Kanan leapt back out, fiercely searching for a single intact holoscreen.
Only one had survived the blaster fire and the bomb. It hung at a crooked angle where one side had come out the wall above the bar. The feed had continued throughout the brawl uninterrupted, and now the cracked projectors cast broken holofeed onto the dust and smoke hanging in the air.
The surviving screen showed Ezra, running flat out, dodging scrub and rocks. His backpack was bouncing and as he ran the helmet wiggled each time he threw a look over his shoulder.
The Trandoshan was following, but at a steady pace. It looked like the boy should be making distance, but the reptile was on his tail, following at his back like some terrible shadow.
His slitted eyes were half lidded, and his teeth were bared in a confident grin. Every few paces he lifted his maw and flicked his forked tongue out to taste the air...
Sabine reappeared, clutching her blaster in one hand and a bulky data pad in the other. "I got everything I could grab."
"Time to go!" Zeb joined her at the foot of the stairs, Bo-Rifle raised, prepared to blast his way through any obstacle. The alarm siren was still blaring, making it difficult to hear them shouting his name.
"Kanan!" Sabine yelled, "We have to go now!"
Kanan knew this. The security alarms would be calling in the closest security agency, possibly even a trooper patrol. They needed to leave now, but Ezra...
Kanan flicked his eyes back across the room. Bodies and upturned tables where everywhere, dust was still settling.
On the holo-screen, Candidate Six was stumbling on his feet, and the holo-cam closed in on his profile. Kanan saw that the boy was trembling, from exhaustion or fear. He scrambled over a rock, fell down, and then was back on his feet.
Several paces back, now closer then before, the Trandoshan appeared in focus. Something black clutched in one claw...
A hand closed on his shoulder, and he turned. It was Zeb, just as frozen in shock as Kanan, his yellow eyes focused on the screen and his grip deathly.
Kanan glanced back and saw Sabine, the data-pad clutched tight to her chest. The visor of her helmet flashed in the holo-screen's light. Apparently all intents of fleeing; forgotten.
If they stayed any longer, they wouldn't be able to leave….
Kanan took one last look at the holo. The kid was already covered in smears of dirt and crushed grass. Kanan was thrown into a memory he had long since left behind him: the fear, the terror. The sensation of being hunted.
Anger flooded his veins, but it was quickly followed by a cold realisation.
I cannot help him, Kanan reeled, watching the kid stumble on screen. Standing around here would solve nothing. For Ezra's sake, he needed to let his fear for the boy go, and act.
The thought jarred his senses loose, and he snapped into action. "Come." he commanded, forcing Zeb along with him, turning his back to the screen.
"Kanan…." Sabine began.
"Ezra knows how to stay alive. We need to trust him to do that. We can't help him by standing around watching. We need to act. We need to get out of here."
Sabine regarded him for half a beat, and then straightened as she started into turned to bound up the narrow stairs. Kanan and Zeb followed, but at the foot of the steps Kanan stopped to fired off a single shot at the screen, cracking the glass and cutting the projection. Sabine followed suite, and tossed two small explosives behind the bar.
"The shows over." She muttered.
The walls shook and dust and smoke was flushed through the doorway as the crew made their escape. The sound of alarms fading behind them into the sound of rain and traffic.
Ezra had tried losing the Trandoshan in the shadows of the trees. But every time he launched out of sight or doubled back to hide, the lizard was never more then a few minutes behind, patiently stalking him down.
They made eye contact a few times that Ezra glanced frantically over his lizard made no attempt to hide himself. Instead he grinned, flicking his tongue between his thin lips and took another heavy step forward.
His tongue! Ezra cursed himself, how could he have been so foolish to forget the Trandoshan's legendary sense of smell.
He's known where I've been this whole time. He followed me from the Treasure Pit.
Ezra launched himself over a rock, propelling himself upwards onto the next. The terrain had begun to incline as the space between the trees began to widen and the ground grew rocky; forcing the boy to start climbing. Ezra gasped for air, his legs were jelly and his hands were already grazed. He couldn't keep this up forever.
I'm wearing myself out while he follows me at his own pace, Ezra realized with a hiss. I'm doing all the work for him! He couldn't keep running. Number Eight wasn't going to give up. He needed to stand his ground.
He climbed a few more feet up and spared another glance back. The lizard was no where in sight, but Ezra wasn't fooled. He kept going up, his muscles straining.
He scrambled over the edge as he reached the top, rolling to his feet. He was standing on a rocky outcrop that jutted out from the trees. One side of the platform was lined with tall stones, and the other opened into a steep gravelly drop.
Ezra stared at the landscape, momentarily forgetting his pursuer in his shock.
He wasn't sure where he was, but he hadn't been expecting the sight that greeted him.
Ezra wasn't familiar with many alien worlds, he'd seen holos and heard stories, but nothing he's ever heard about made sense of what he saw.
The skyline was a flat patchwork of colour. Trees and thorny spires of every description were laid out in chunks. To his left, the treeline stooped low. The ocular-lense zoomed in and Ezra saw something familier; grassland. Only this patch was purple. Not far away he thought he could make out a circular clearing with a dark center- The pit he realised. It wasn't as far away as he'd thought.
I've been walking in a big loop. He cursed himself again and craned his neck up to see the sky. It was clear of any clouds and the sun was a single brilliant white orb.
There were no buildings, no starships. Just a stretch of mismatched wildness as far as he could see. But there were also no fences either, he noted. Could it be they'd really give the Candidates run of such a huge distance?
Where was he? What planet was this? None of this made any sort of sense.
A branch broke to his left and Ezra automatically threw himself to the right. No! his mind jerked in fear.
At the very last moment Ezra managed to stop himself and change his trajectory, only just avoiding the club that came smashing down on the spot where his foot would have been. But he was unsteady. He tripped, and went rolling towards the open face of the cliff. He came to a stop a foot away from the edge and gasped for air as the world spun around him and his inner ear rotated the opposite way.
Number Eight stepped out from behind the rock, his sharp teeth bared in a twisted grin.
"Usually, little human beasts are bad hunting."
Ezra tried to roll onto his feet, but the slightest shift in his weight sent the loose gravel underneath me sliding. He looked left and right, but both sides of the path ended in high flat slate.
As the Eight took a heavfty step towards him, and now Ezra could see the sides of his skull. The scales looked raw and blankend in what he assumed was the shape on an Aubresh 8. The boy swallowed hard, silently thinking that while his tattoos still ached, at least the Makers hadn't felt the need to brand him.
Eight's toothy grin widened.
Ezra was cornered.
"Humans are slow and die easy, poor sport to hunt. They have bad hide and stringy meat."The Trandoshan growled, lifting his massive club up with one claw and supporting the rounded end in his other. "But for you, little worm, I will make the exception."
Some far away, very angry and frustrated part of Ezra's brain managed to step in and take over the animal fear controlling him. He scowled, sat upright as much as he dared, and shot out a sarcastic jab.
"That's good of you. With all the bigger game here, too. I'm honored. Do you always wimp out and tackle the easy pickings first?"
The Trandoshan didn't look surprised, he looked amused, so Ezra pulled out another.
"Is that why your stuck in here? Do you like an easy fight where your prey are already caught for you? Does it make you feel big? Will the other dosh be proud?"
The Trandoshan's eyes narrowed and a low rumble began in his throat. Okay, so I hit a nerve, Ezra thought.
"Maybe it's not that humans taste bad, maybe it's just your ugly race has been stuck eating slops from the swamp for too long." Ezra glanced backwards, looking at what lay down the cliff.
It was higher up then he expected, and there wasn't much below except a steep drop with a few raggedy ledges too small and weak to support him, but certainly big enough to do some damage if he knocked against one.
He would almost certainly break something if he tried to skate down.
Ezra snapped his attention back on the Trandoshan. "Maybe you just don't know what good food is anymore. Leatherhead."
The lizard roared and swung his club.
Ezra rolled, and the club smashed into the ground where his head had been. His left leg went spilling over the edge of the cliff and Ezra dug his fingers into the dirt with a gasp as the gritty surface settled.
Eight took half a step closer, lowering his club letting out a deep rumble of amusement. "I will enjoy picking the meat off your skinny bones." he said firmly. He let the wide round end of the club rest on the dirt, the sound heavy and weighted. Ezra tightened his fingers on the loose gravel, an idea forming in his mind.
"Maybe I will use your ribs to clean my teeth." Eight laughed, a reptilian rumble.
Half an inch closer, Ezra thought. He swallowed and looked up from the ground.
"You wouldn't know which end to start with!"
Number Eight growled, heaving the club up over his head once more.
In one panicked flurry of movement, Ezra barreled into the Trandoshan's knees, throwing all his weight towards the edge.
The Tradoshan had not been expecting a last minute fight, so his stance was unsteady, and his hesitation gave Ezra the time that he needed.
The boy found his feet and with all his might he pushed with both his arms and his will.
Go over. He thought. Leave me alone!
The Trandoshan went over the cliff edge slowly, or maybe it just seemed that way.
His thick arms swam in the air as his balance was suddenly compromised. He fell forward, turning as he did and stared, his jaw open in shock. He dropped the club as the weight pulled him further, but the sandy ground had already started to shift under his feet.
Eight's slitted eyes went wide, and then narrowed as they focused on Ezra and blazed with fury.
He roared as he fell away, slipping over the edge, the sound echoing though the canyon.
Ezra leapt back to the edge in time to see the blurry shirking shape of the Trandoshan disappear into the trees at the bottom. The leaves shuddered, and then stilled.
He was gone.
Ezra couldn't move, the pump of blood in his ears was deafening and his throat was raw. Had he just... No.
There was no cannon, Ezra realized with a jerk. He's still alive. Probably injured, but still alive for sure.
Ezra couldn't help the awful quirk of his mouth, he felt giddy with relief. Even though his body was aching and his heart was beating against his ribs and his veins were throbbing with adrenaline; he couldn't help but laugh.
"He's not gonna be happy to see me next time."
R&R for Good Karma and survival skills for Ezra's sake.