Chapter 25
Twenty-seven hours after the commander promised an EVAC
The commander claws at the intangible hand choking him. Spots flicker at the edge of his vision. Without the slightest touch, the witch lifts him off the ground by his throat. Arm outstretched, she holds him aloft before slowly walking around her bubbling cauldron.
"No, you should not have seen that! That wasn't what I foresaw! No, no, NOOOO!" The duality of her two personalities merges into a shrieking, incoherent fiend. He tries to speak, argue, or breathe without success. With an iron will, he pulls his hand away from his neck and reaches for his pistol. Charal spots it, tightening her grip and twisting his neck dangerously.
Frantic, he kicks her in the face. She cries out, stumbling against the bubbling cauldron and burning herself. The injuries distract and trip her; she hits the floor hard. Suddenly released, the commander drops to his knees, violently coughing before fear drives him back to his feet.
How can I fight someone who can lift a person at will? The commander screams in his thoughts, paralyzed by doubt. She bashed two people against a wall with a wave of her hand!
Meanwhile, the witch rolls to her feet with the speed of a feral animal. Her wild eyes lock on him with unhinged rage.
"Cha-ral," he gags, interrupted by coughing. Gary and the doctor lie nearby; please don't be dead! He's almost as helpless. His terror threatens to overwhelm him, pressure squeezing him from two sides. The commander panics at the thought of failing everyone; simultaneously, images of a horrific and agonizing death plague his thoughts. He holds his desperation at bay by focusing on survival. He stumbles forward, keeping the bubbling cauldron and fire between him and the witch. He smacks Doctor Wither's boot when he passes her, then kicks Gary. The stormtrooper groans softly. Both move sluggishly, utterly dazed but alive.
Taking his eyes off the witch infuriates her. She hisses, a low, animalistic noise emerging from her throat as she stalks him around the cauldron and spit. The commander inhales deeply, then forces out, "Charal! Focus!"
She blinks; yes, her name! It's only for a heartbeat, but the rational side of her mind resists her animal fury. Then her anger takes hold; she hunches in a predatory pose.
"Charal!" He yells. "I don't want to fight!"
"LIAR!" She shrieks as a wave of force rolls out from her. The fire flares, popping and cracking fiercely. Wind buffets the commander, and even the cauldron wobbles. She hurtles over it, and he dodges to the side before crawling away. Desperately, he keeps the cauldron between them. She pursues him coolly, seemingly feeding on his fear. Although shorter than him, from the ground, she's towering. Her beak snaps twice, then angrily cries, "I see through you!"
I SEE THROUGH YOU!
For the second time, he feels her words as much as he hears them. Her immense power, fed by the madness currently gripping her, forces him to admit he can't stand against her alone. Luckily, her scream frightens his comrades so profoundly that it banishes their grogginess.
I can't lie or manipulate her. Charal's too smart, mad, and far too powerful!
With blinding speed, she races around the cauldron and slams him with bone-shattering force. He flies through the air until he collides with the wall, blasting the air from his lungs and unleashing pain through his back. Slowly, he sinks to the ground, his whole body aching. For the first time in days, he remembers his fight with the geejaws.
She saunters up to him as he fights to stand—the commander's mind races. In the middle of his injuries and breathlessness, he struggles to come up with something to persuade or calm her. When she looms over him, he blurts out, "We do not need to be slaves of our past, Charal!"
Her name effectively slaps her. It diminishes her predatory side as she fights to regain control. That momentary pause gives him enough time to form an argument.
"I served in the Clone Wars! I've assaulted ships through burning airlocks and watched artillery shred men closer than you are to me now. After all that, they left me to die! I know betrayal. I know how it feels to lose everything! That isolation, the hopeless, I've felt it too."
"You're not lying," Charal admits before the witch cackles. "That doesn't make it true!"
Already terrified by her sheer power, her two personalities rapidly switching back and forth adds a new flavor of dismay. The commander can barely plan beyond seconds, as each statement has to be examined, recognizing who is speaking and how to respond to them.
The doctor scowls, revealing she's recovered. Gary smacks himself in the helmet. The commander can only spare them the barest glance as the witch studies him from inches away.
She glares down at him with one black bird's eye and one human, skeptical and unconvinced. Remarkably, she doesn't attack. Instead, she flicks him with a finger, "Go on."
"The Emperor is dead. Vader is dead."
"I know that!" She howls, her fury spiking. "I felt their deaths and celebrated it!"
"Which means they can't stop us; they can't influence us either!" He opens his hands to display they're empty before rising, "We can't change our past, but we can write our own ending. Our lives, our future, is ours to determine."
"Do you think I'm a fool?" She cackles, then swears fiercely. "You want to trick me!"
"I'm a soldier, not a politician. I leave schemes and tricks to others."
"I don't trust you! That doesn't make you trustworthy!" The witch shrieks before alternating to Charal. "You served the Empire. You hunt people like us; you torture and kill us!"
"A lot has happened in the last week, forcing me to reflect, changing my perspective. I'm not the man who arrived on Endor days ago."
"You think you've changed?" Unconvinced, her head dips threateningly. "Your hands are drenched in blood, stormtrooper! People can't change! No one changes!"
"I am a stormtrooper; I can't argue that," he changes tact. "What would you do in my place? You had the Duloks steal the vane to lead us here. You invited us in but drugged us-"
"That shouldn't have happened. I saw it! You shouldn't have discovered that!" Charal claims before the witch takes hold. "Everything I did to survive. I survive!"
"I think in straight lines and hard corners, I'm a trooper, through and through. You see through people. Everything that lead us here is by your design. We've barely lasted a week, and you've survived for far longer. I want my troops off Endor, and you want to leave. That gives us a common cause, and your insight would be priceless. You'll never have a better chance than beside me, but as I told my troopers, we can't do it if we're at each other's throats."
He doesn't need to see Doctor Wither's face to know she strongly disagrees or Gary's emphatic shake of his head. Neither matters while they're in the witch's home, and she has all the power. A conflict rages within her; her dual personalities of the animal or human, mad witch or devious sorceress, fight for dominance. When she finally speaks, he knows he's reached her.
"I survived by maintaining the tribes' feuds," she explains, closing her eyes to concentrate. "Your forces are merely another tribe, and so are the rebels. Their alliance with the Ewoks is not the first coalition. You need more than the assistance of a tribe or even two. The Rebels control the air space, reinforced by the Ewoks on the ground. They're in ascendance; therefore, you need a distraction, a large transport, and allies. You have an army, but your troops are not acclimated to Endor, and you're unwilling to sacrifice them even if necessary."
"Escaping with my men is the only victory I require," he reminds her.
"This is a bad idea," Dr. Wither points out. "You can't trust her."
"Silence!" The witch snaps, pointing at the doctor. She glares, but her mouth stubbornly remains closed when she tries to speak. Wither's eyes widen in panic. Her lips remain locked. She turns her gaze to the commander after attempting to pry her mouth open with her hands.
When she reaches for her blaster, Gary raises his own, but the commander quickly holds up a hand, stopping them. The rapid move aggravates his back, but he steps in front of Charal to halt them before it escalates. Each step clenches his back, making it difficult to move well.
His comrades scowl and disapprove but accept his judgment. His back turned to the witch; he's amazed she didn't strike. When he turns back to her, she's staring at his belt.
"A deal," she mutters, her eyes never looking up. The commander follows her gaze, discovering that Ruin is exposed. During the fight, his cloak caught on the Ewok ax. A black tongue licks the witch's beak. Her fingers twitch, and her hands shake as if she's an addict experiencing withdrawal. "A deal! Yes! If I help you. You must offer something-a-a-a trade."
Tension spikes. The commander knows he's dealing with the witch now, her mad side. Slowly, he pulls his cloak over the weapon to conceal it. The witch blinks, but there is only the witch when she meets his gaze. Madness swirls in her eyes, and none of Charal remains.
"Certainly, but we agreed, I'll help you off, Endor."
"More!" The witch demands immediately. Her voice peaks, then her cunning restrains it. "You understand, yes? We need trust. I must trust you to work together. Show me your commitment, yes! Give me something. A weapon, one I can use to protect myself-"
"No," He refuses. Her intent is as clear as Endor's two suns, but he responds before thinking about it. He declares it. It is as final as simple, leaving no room for argument.
"No? No! No-no-no!" She shrieks. "Give it to me!"
She launches herself at him with blinding speed, but already on edge, he slugs her. The blow knocks her into the cauldron, burning her again. Unfortunately, it wrenches the commander's back. He cries out in pain, falling to a knee. The witch turns her ire on him, but spotting his weakness, instead seizes the ax. It slips free, and the witch cackles with delight.
Gary and the doctor aim, but the witch seizes them with her power. Both gag and gasp, clawing at their necks as they rise off their feet. The commander kicks her leg, knocking her down with a scream, releasing them. Ruin tumbles from her grasp, landing next to the fire. Both lunge for the weapon, but the witch grabs the commander with magic and hurls him across the room. He lands near her drape, which hid the vane earlier.
"The Shadowstone!" The witch howls, completely disregarding them. "It's mine!"
She raises the ax above her head in celebration as an unnatural purple glow envelops her. Then suddenly, the light turns ominous, dimming before lightning flashes. The witch's confidence wanes, concern growing in her eyes. She swallows as she stares up at the weapon. Then the lightning strikes her, flashing harshly as she screams.
"It rejects me!" The witch howls, stubbornly holding on as the lightning intensifies, striking her repeatedly. "I will not be defied! No! It's mine!"
Using that moment, the commander rolls onto his stomach with difficulty. His eyes fall upon the imperial guard's force pike. Gary and the doctor shot at the witch, striking the cauldron before self-preservation overrides the witch's obsession. She drops the ax and darts behind the firepit to protect herself. She gathers the force, then hurls it into the fire beneath. Instantly, smoke and ash assail both imperials, plunging the hut into darkness.
His helmet was broken by Ewoks days ago; his lowlight doesn't respond, the darkness blinding him as much as everyone else. Miraculously, the commander's hand wraps around the force pike, filling him with hope. Unfortunately, within her hut, the witch is a predator in its den. She spots the danger he poses. She seizes him again, but the commander recognizes it. He keeps his head, remaining calm this time instead of panicking.
"NOOOO!" Gary screams, distracting her before he blasts at her feet under the cauldron.
"Sneaky!" She cries, dodging his blasts. "You can't hide anything from me, Gary!"
The commander lands on the balls of his feet; in spite of his back pain, the witch has only a heartbeat before he drives the pike into her chest. Set on stun, the electrical charge hurls her into the wall he struck earlier. She wails in agony, twitching from the residual effects. She screeches, pushing them back with a wave of force. Then she swings her arm in a wide circle.
While the commander struggles to press the attack, pain arcing through him, a burst of wind rushes through the hut. Suddenly, a mini-tornado whirls everything in a circle as the witch protects herself. Gary and the doctor try to shoot her, but the debris and wind ruin their aim. The witch swings faster, and the storm's force grows, pelting them with dust and wind. The commander looks at the cauldron, barely affected by the storm, then her position.
"On me!" He screams over the growing storm, lurching towards the cauldron. He pushes with all his force, causing another flare of pain in his back. His hands burn when he touches it, even though his gauntlets. It's agony, but he resists the urge to stop. Instead, he puts his whole weight into it. Gary appears beside him but cries out, jerking his hands back from the bubbling pot. Dr. Wither collides with the commander and pushes him as hard as possible. Gary grits his teeth, then rejoins them, groaning as it burns his palms.
Slowly, the spit and cauldron shift before toppling. The darkness and the witch's fury conspire against her, concealing it until the crossbar slams into her chest. It doesn't crush her; instead, it pins her to the ground as the boiling soup washes over her. An ear-piercing shriek rises from the witch as she burns. She trembles and shakes violently, unnaturally, until her body stills in the bubbling pool around her.
All three of them try to catch their breath, inhaling and exhaling the only noise within the hut. Eventually, Gary asks, "Should we shoot her? You know, just to be sure?"
The commander considers it, looking to Dr. Wither, who hunches over to try to breathe.
Suddenly, the spit and cauldron launch into the ceiling, striking it with so much force it punches through. Pieces of roof crumble, falling inward, as the tornado erupts again. The witch screeches, fueled by her pain and madness, while her body flails in every direction. Pandemonium races through the hut. Dr. Wither raises her blaster, but in the darkness-infused chaos, her shots miss wildly. The crazy wind pushes Gary into the path of her blaster. The commander grabs her arm and forces it down. He yells over the noise, "Run! Get the vane!"
Gary is first out, but the doctor follows immediately, grabbing the vane on her way out. The commander follows them, slowed by his injuries. They don't follow the path. Instead, they hurdle through mud, muck, and stagnant pools without hesitation. Poisonous creatures as warped as the swamp appear, worrying them initially. Then follow their example and flee for their lives.
Pain strikes like lightning, crippling the commander. His back gives out, and the swamp swallows him, murky water filling his mouth, nose, and ears. He tries to stand. He fights to rise above the waterline but can't. Adrenaline exhausted, his injuries stole what little he had.
Then a hand seizes him. He squeezes it with every ounce of strength he has left. Gary drags him free of the muck, pulling his head above the water. He cries out as the pain flares but takes a deep breath. Dr. Wither slogs through the water, taking his other arm, and together they drag him forward.
Not long after, the three reach the embankment they arrived at hours ago. They crawl free of the mud and muck, struggling onward. Only the basest instinct urges them forward for the reward of dry land. Finally, when they reach it, they rest in blissful silence.
"I-I…," Gary mumbles. "Do—you think…she's dead? Was that…her death rattle?"
All three look in unison. Suddenly, a wail rises, and the hut explodes. They flinch but can't look away, staring back with abject horror, utterly captivated.
"No," the commander replies quietly. "The witch will never stop hunting us now."
Something bumps the commander, startling him. Then it snorts. He looks and laughs. His laugh is desperate, pathetic, and threaded with relief. His companions turn, and their fear evaporates with the sudden return of their blurrg. Wither sighs and covers her face. When she pulls her hands away, she's hiding behind her stony gaze, swiftly wiping her eyes and nose. Gary giggles until it gives way to open sobbing as his body trembles. Wither puts a hand on his back.
The commander strokes their lost blurrg. He doesn't share their feelings because he knows it's not over. Worse, the rise and fall of emotions and peak terror leave him feeling hollow. He catches himself staring without thinking, utterly listless.
Sensing their mood, their blurrg whines before rubbing itself against them reassuringly. The simple beast tries its best to ease their suffering.