Hey so I managed to post a chapter! It could be quite some time until the next post... like maybe a month, because I have plenty more revision to do and exams this month, as I'm sure you may have seen on my profile, if you've looked. I hope you enjoy and Happy New Year!
Chapter 17. Caring Jedi.
Vizsla gazed almost longingly with the eyes of an eagle at the five diminishing figures in the distance, the sanguine light radiating from the shining tips of the setting sun casting a Satsuma glow over their slim and pointed shadows.
As they each vanished from sight, Vizsla's lips would twitch, until finally, his top lip would curl over his teeth, revealing gleaming fangs in a vicious snarl. He skidded his Mando'a armoured boot across the marble floor, the steel screeching loudly across the floor, as he briskly retreated from the stained glass window.
His men, each in turn, stared expectantly at him as he marched past them, staring at his set face through dark glass windows in their traditional warrior helmet. None breathed a word as their leader then stamped out of the throne room.
Vizsla left the men behind, abandoning them with nothing but the thunderous boom of the doors slamming shut behind them, the noise reverberating off the grey walls and leaving them alone in competent silence.
It had been at least two hours of trudging – or limping in a certain Jedi's case – throughout the bustling streets of Sundari, the group weaving tentatively through the wild crowds of Mandalorians, the buzzing of their voices the highest pitch above all others. There were only a handful of Death Watch recruits present in the main square of the city, but it only took one to discover any of the group of five to alert the others.
The heat of the sun blistering down upon them, accompanied by the heat of people's bodies mixing through the air seemed almost unbearable to one particular person.
Obi-Wan was almost being dragged to the hideout of the resistance. About an hour and a half through the journey he had virtually collapsed to the ground unable to go on.
'Just leave me,' He had said through gritted teeth, trying to cover up any weakness or pain. He was not one to neither beg nor ask for help from others.
Anakin had marched over to him and wrapped an arm under the older Jedi's left arm and rested his lean arm upon the man's shoulder, supporting him. 'We're not leaving you here, Master. Not here, not anywhere,'
He'd allowed himself to be helped and now they were here, moving covertly through the square, each holding their breath and casting their gazes downward or to the sides.
The Jedi Master's condition seemed to deteriorate from the trek. The heat seemed too much for him, making his throat raw and scratchy and his thirst parched. His stomach contorted in knots from nausea and no nourishment, and his skin looked flaky and crisp white as a ghost.
"Almost there, Master." Anakin's strained voice summoned his attention, azure eyes sweeping up to clash with the sparkling sapphire that gazed worriedly at him. Anakin's toothy grin was almost enough to gather an ounce of his strength back and keep pushing; but there was another whom he would push for more. Someone he needed to protect, serve and love passionately and fully.
"Good," He whispered in the fullest voice he could, his throat burning with every word he uttered. "Because I'm not sure how much more of this I can take."
Anakin smirked, and a light chuckle rumbled out from his broad chest. "Maybe if you were more careful, Master, maybe you wouldn't end up in so many of these situations."
Obi-Wan looked at his friend in seriousness, slowly diminishing Anakin's teasing mood before a wry grin spread smoothly - as if water - across his deadened features.
Garen had winded his way to the front of the group, and he slowly led them, as a shepherd herding his sheep, towards the hideout located in the back alley not far from them. He raised his right arm up, stretching out to the side and balled his hand into a loose fist.
At the silent command, the others stopped dead in their tracks, any movement seized and non-existent as if they were each statues.
Their eyes raked the scene as Garen crept across the last stretch of the square towards the lurid alley ahead. His upper body twisted slowly from left to right, his dark eyes scanning the alley for any suspicious signs. Finally, he stopped his surveillance and looked back at the others, his almond eyes gleaming in the dark. He raised his hand and stretched it out and back towards him again in three, fluent motions, summoning them to him.
The four unwanted persons swept quickly into the dark alley, their bodies melting into the shadows, slowly disfiguring, and becoming one with the darkness.
They all slivered their way like snakes towards the durasteel door. Three light taps on Garen's knuckles and they were inside.
Ahsoka, the last to enter, jumped across the threshold that separated the hideout and the outside world and swiftly shut the door, leaving everyone in silence and dim light.
The smell of damp wood and mould filled the air, and the sandy dust hung in the air all around them.
Anakin dragged Obi-Wan forwards and gently eased him on a make shift cot, allowing the wounded and physically exhausted Jedi to rest. Anakin gazed down upon his former mentor and friend with pity. Obi-Wan was wounded beyond his imagination.
Multiple cuts, now dry with blood, sweat and grime, adorned his handsome face, making it look slightly disfigured and harder to recognize with the dirt and sunken black eyes. His clothes were torn and stained with an ugly mix of crimson, green and brown, the kind that would only be recognized as blood and bile. Finally, the patch of blood on his right side caught Anakin's attention, and he slowly reached out his flesh hand and began peeling back the sticky and ripped cotton tunic.
The sight that beheld him caused him to gasp and stumble back slightly, his eyes bulging, reflecting horror.
On Obi-Wan's right side, right near the ribs, was a terrible gash with snapped black stitches which could only be that way by being ripped at. The wound was grizzly; a foul stream of blood was oozing out of the open wound, the burgundy liquid leaked out and through his stitches and clothes. Yellow puss, dried and horrid to the sight, presented its self spectacularly to the wound. Tendrils of loose flesh streaked and tangled across the grievous wound, and revealed the grey that could only be solid bone itself. It was enough to make Anakin feel sick to his stomach.
The wound needed attention immediately. That much was obvious.
Suddenly, Anakin felt something burning within him. Something cold and yet tempting. Seductively tempting. The young Jedi felt red hot pikes of anger surge through him. He just couldn't comprehend why so many people were so eager to hurt or kill his Master. Extinguishing the licking flames he felt rising and burning within him, he stamped it out and tried to find his calm centre.
Anakin, in a rare moment of affection for his Master, reached out a tender hand and laid it on the unconscious Jedi's head.
"Don't worry, Master," He whispered soothingly, sending deep and calm waves to him. "I promise that I will make Vizsla see justice for what he has done to you."
And with that, a Jedi swore to avenge the suffering weeks of his Master, and did not feel the disapproval burning deep within the sleeping Jedi.
A few hours later, and Anakin finally left his Master's side. He had attended carefully to the Jedi's injuries, clearing the terrible wound in his side and stitching it properly, soothing and calming his Master when his breathing heightened in speed and his breath hissed or he moaned in pain. The cuts on his face and any on his body under his clothes were cleaned and taken care of.
The sleeping Jedi looked much more peaceful now. His body was relaxed and stretched, no longer tensed. His face, once twisted and contorted in pain and anguish before, was now peaceful. Though his skin complexion was very pale, and his eyes remained black and bruised, he now looked perfectly serene.
Anakin was now pleased, as he watched his Master rest peacefully. He had done his work well.
After analysing him some more for anything he missed, he finally let his eyes rest on the Jedi Master's face and gazed tenderly at his relaxed features. He no longer looked plagued by pain and suffering at others hands, nor all the horrors he had seen during the war.
Obi-Wan moaned and rolled slowly over, facing Anakin. His eye lids flickered slightly and his fist, free under his chest, balled into a tight fist.
Anakin stepped forward and planted a hand on his forehead.
"Rest, my Master." He gently commanded, giving him a Force suggestion to help him sleep and purge him of any nightmares that may be attacking his unconscious mind.
At the gentle and smooth command, Obi-Wan seemed to relax. His body eased and stretched out across the makeshift cot, and his face relaxed once more, the lines of worry fading away. He let out a sigh of contentment, as that of a small child would do.
Anakin smiled and stepped back, letting his hand linger momentarily on his friend's forehead before retreating backwards.
"Come back soon," The Knight said in one of his softer tones, his words carrying through the heavy air of the room towards Obi-Wan's prone form. "We need you."
The Jedi Knight turned around and walked away towards the others, letting the Jedi Master not too far off rest his body in peaceful slumber, and his mind freely wander the dreams his mind conjured.
Ok, so there we go for now. As I said I've got exams to continueing prepping for, and I'm very nervous on what I will get once they have all been marked in preparation for our final exams and marks before leaving school forever... *Sighs*
As always, let me know what you think guys! :D