Good day all,
Chaos has reigned in life, but finally I have gotten this chapter up. …this is a big one, and it was a tad intimidating to write. The surprises here will probably throw you, but it has been a work in progress for almost 30 chapters now. Enjoy, my friends… and may balance come.
Happy Writing,
Eliana
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"We've locked on to the pings from the locators, sir. Ground Target: Life dead ahead."
The heavily accented, Togruti, crackling voice in basic made Anakin jump when it unexpectedly came garbling out of his communicator. His padawan, whose eyes were still planted on the black painted fighters whistling toward them, didn't seem to acknowledge the sound.
"Ravens, lay cover on Target: Afterlife and rain fire."
"Copy that."
Ahsoka's throat was as dry as the sand beneath her boots. That same sand that had greeted her those rotations ago was now shrouded in the shadow of the clouds that swallowed the sun, casting it a dark grey that matched the color swimming in the field below her. From a distance, the entire valley to her left seemed to jut with boulders. It was a harsh snap to reality that reminded her that even the orange forcefield couldn't hide the mass grave of bodies.
The voices coming from her and her master's gauntlets were a garbled mess to her… until their final statements came through as they drew upon their targets.
"Switching squadron control to Ground Team."
The blinking blue light on her arm shifted to solid green, the sign that told her that she suddenly had an entire aerial squad at her fingertips. She had experienced this a few times before, all those times when the gunships would come to rescue her and her men from certain death. The feeling was hard to describe.
It was relieving, unbelievable, invigorating – until:
"It's been an honor serving with you, commander."
The Togruta pilot was saying that directly to someone. She was a commander, but surely it wasn't her. The relief she held slid through her shaking fingers like the tumbling sand below her boots. The ground that it sat on jumped and shook and rumbled something fierce when the first wave of rockets, vengeful and seeking, came howling from their holders on the fighters and careened into their target: the mass of Outsiders that Djibourdi's men had herded into the junction of the forcefield wall.
Their end was one of fire and ferocity. It was a fate met by their friends that stood between Djibourdi and the hospital he slowly marched to, and one that was equally as damning as the hellfire that was rained down on the droids when the planes passed the valley and brought hell with them.
So very distantly, Ahsoka could hear Anakin's command of:
"Rex, pick your targets!"
And her friend's:
"Yes sir!"
Before he began chattering out coordinates and orders… they were handling themselves. Her focus was well below them, down to the ledge that her friends stood on. A few hundred yards from that forcefield was a group of Outsiders that had somehow avoided the fate of the rockets, and hissing in rage was one of those pieced-together creatures that had turned its head. In the distance, the Algol screeched.
The hunter's focus had gone from tormenting the terrified people behind the shield… to sparing no sound of absolute, unfiltered, uncontrolled bloodthirst toward the single Togruta that marched his way closer. It was the sound that her friend made that caused Ahsoka to leap down between the people who crouched among each other for comfort.
It was a half roar, half call that came both from his lips and his montrals and carried far enough for her to hear it. That wasn't a sound she knew. It was primal and unfiltered, yet somehow she understood exactly what it was.
It was designed to catch the attention of the hunter, yes, but it was also more. It was a taunt. He was taunting this attacker when he could hardly walk or breathe. Djibourdi was desperately clinging to what control he had left, and his master had left him with very clear rules of honor: he couldn't engage first. The enemy had to.
He was smart enough to know that it wouldn't take much, and as Ahsoka moved down the length of the mountain to get as close as she could to support her friend, Djibourdi's taunt won. With a hissing trill full of malice, the hunter flashed his teeth and charged down toward the padawan.
He was not running toward a wounded teenager who was unable to defend himself.
The dust kicked up by the explosion was pushed away in two strong bursts as Djibourdi shook his head with a growl, his arms and hands striking out to signal to the weapons protecting them to form again. It obeyed, creating the sharpened pins of durasteel down the length of his arms and the claws on his hands – and then that roar came again from bared white teeth when the red body moved to charge straight to his enemy.
They met with a clash of energy, the hunter lifted by a claw-clenched neck off the ground. He gargled a snarl down to the padawan who lifted him off the earth. Clones collided with Outsiders in a flurry of crunching bone and tossed soil, chaos again reigning over them all as they fought closer to the massive crater left by the bomb.
Ahsoka finally found her spot next to her friends where they safely clustered together, and she was greeted only with a glance from Tocarra and Donovan. All other eyes were locked, unblinking, to the fighting in the distance to their left.
"Is it just me," Donovan asked no one in particular, his voice detached and numb at what they were watching, "Or has he been working out?"
It would have normally been funny – most especially when they all watched Djibourdi throw the hunter like a ragdoll over an expanse of land to the ground.
"Tom got that boy ready," Tocarra whispered back.
The consensus among them was that it was awe-inspiring, watching what the Force could do when it was channeled within… but there was something wrong. Djibourdi was showing strength, showing fighting intelligence, standing his ground. But in those same moments, they could all hear (no, they could FEEL) his body's growing desperation.
Tombur had always instilled two rules to any engagement: first, do no harm unless it is intended to you. Second, every move should use only the energy it needed to fulfill its purpose. No more. The Force wasn't unlimited, nor was the ability of anyone to use it within themselves. A body could only take so much before it began to break down.
The padawan was slipping on his grip when it came to that second rule… they could see the desperation in the excess energy that leaked from his moves.
Djibourdi knew it better than anyone. When the hunter came to him again and he managed to capture his enemy by a snapping jaw, he swung them both around with a roar from his montrals. The momentum of the strained final shreds of energy Djibourdi had to offer sent the Outsider, claws ripping at the earth to stop himself when the red hands let go, skidding down the incline into the artificial crevice. The grey-skinned hunter hissed a trilling death wish back to the padawan who was ever so slowly walking toward where he stopped.
The tiny blips of electricity the weapons on his arms let off crackled hotly in his montrals and licked at the ground by his legs. The vengeful energy snapped at anything that drew close, its stores glowing a warning crystal blue that hummed from his hands to his back. These weapons fed off his energy, off his motion, off energy he absorbed from weapons or charges… he was saving that energy for when it was needed most.
The problem with that plan was…he had to be alive to use it.
Ever so subtly, the hot trail of blood passed his lips and rolled down his chin.
His teeth were coated in the sticky, copper-tasting liquid.
His muscles demanded to stop as they trembled.
His lungs felt like he had breathed in glass shards.
The air that normally flowed through his lungs rumbled weakly in them instead.
His left arm was so torn that it had long ago numbed itself from the pain of continually popping stitches.
His heart shot punches of fatigue through him with every beat.
His vision was slowly fading to black.
All of that told him what was coming. He was on the doorstep of what he feared, what he couldn't escape. The tiny thuds of energy on the other side of the forcefield told him that his friends were alive and well…. And the clicking of the tiny metal plates on his lekku reminded him what he had to do. He had spent most of the night in the camp carving one for each of them lest he forget why he had chosen to do this. Whether it was right or wrong, he understood what was coming.
Shili called to him now, and he could no longer deny her. The mortal, young side of him wanted to stop and cry for his lost brothers – he would have given anything for the chance to run into the arms of his master and grandmaster one more time. He wanted to be able to joke with Ahsoka or play with Kachi, to actually spend time with Eddy as the man deserved or worry over trivial things like his astro-physics homework.
His heart skipped a beat in his chest, and a rumbling cough brought more blood to his mouth. He had made his choice. For them. All of them. He would protect them if it was the last thing he managed to do.
He refused to die on his knees.
When the hunter, well within the walls of the crater, shot him a snarling hiss in defiance he answered it with his own call. That short roar that was rooted in the primal side of his nature escaped his lungs again, and he slowly marched himself out of sight of his friends to face this enemy.
The flurry of sound and scent and death had Sam lost in his moves as he cut down another hissing Outsider. It meant that when he turned around, in a half circle at first and then in full rounds of anxiety after, he realized he couldn't see his friend. The cold slap of horror made him double back to where he had last seen the Togruta, weaving and slicing and dodging the wounded enemies that grabbed up to him from where they lay.
No.
No.
Where was he?!
Somehow (surely General Tombur would have tried to convince him that it was the Force) he found the padawan in the crater. He had propped himself back against the dark soil, the wispy roots of the plants reaching out to curtain his shoulders and head where he sat. He was calm, the body of the hunter lying not far away.
He was calm… but Sam knew that pose. They had talked about this, just the two of them… the kid didn't deserve this. Sam wasn't ready for this. The agony in his chest reminded him that he DID have a heart, and it was breaking in two.
"Red," he spoke calmly to the Togruta as he knelt next to him, his soothing tone drowning out the screams and roars from above them, "Up, little brother. You have to keep pushing."
Djibourdi gave him a smile, one that was betrayed by the agonizing, guttural cough that forced him to spit a mouthful of blood to the ground by his side. The smile returned when he propped himself back into the roots, those golden irises looking to his friend with unrestrained comfort and love.
"No, Sam," his voice was harsh, but the smile was still on his lips, "I think I've pushed as far as I can."
The clone didn't know what to say. For the first time in his memory there was no sharp recognition of orders, no words of confidence, no redirection of emotion. He had enough mind to reach out and grasp his friend's cold hand, thankful that the squeezing pressure was returned, before his closed his eyes and turned his face away. He was desperate to hide the tear that strangled loose. He knew this was coming, and he was probably the only one besides the padawan who knew…. But Tombur wouldn't be the only one who grieved for Djibourdi and the change he was about to face.
Behind him he subtly acknowledged the clacking of steel-bottomed boots against the sloping ground. The Reapers had come as they always had. They were given the same smile that Sam had been awarded, one that was only returned shallowly, as they found comfortable spots to sit in the tiny reprieve they had forced into existence.
"You all have followed me into the pits of darkness," Djibourdi rasped to them, "and I am forever thankful."
"We can get you back to the forest, Red," Cable almost pleaded him, "Get you out of play."
All of them felt their hearts sink at the lighthearted, weak chuckle that bubbled with blood.
"Come now, I wasn't meant to walk away from this. We all knew that."
Djibourdi's eyes turned back to Sam, giving a firm squeeze to the warm hand. He earned his friend's eyes.
"You have to let me go," he told him, "What is… is what must be."
The roar of the Algol drew ever-closer, as did the rumbling of the electrical blasts that he sent ripping into the bodies of the clones and the blood-soaked ground.
"Go on now," Djibourdi rasped out to his Reapers, that smile coming back. They had to go without him, "Our brothers need you."
It was a mercy that they didn't fight him on that soft command. Instead they each, one at a time, gave him a bow and a squeeze of a hand on a shoulder before their weapons were drawn and they galloped back out of the crater. They didn't look back.
Sam drew a steadying breath. He had promised Djibourdi the last night in the camp and this part of his job had never been pleasant, but it had never hurt like this before. He was startled when the hand he held suddenly jumped to clutch his shoulder. This hold was strong and determined, so much so that it impressed him.
"I want you… to not look back," the padawan told him. Those seven words spoke a thousand, and in an instant the steady calm was back with the clone again. Djibourdi was prepared to face this, but he wouldn't until Sam was okay – he owed it to his friend to stay out of the way.
A curt nod of the head was Sam's answer, and he drew himself as close to his friend's side as he could, his left hand laying itself over the Togruta's struggling heart and his right returning the clasp to the forearm that was offered. He had to gulp once before his voice left his throat.
"This is only pain, little brother," he told the younger, finally returning the smile that was being gifted to him on blood-stained lips, "It's the final step."
They both closed their eyes, their foreheads pressed together in a final gesture of brotherly affection. When Sam drew back and they dropped their hold on one another, he spoke for the last time.
"I'll see you on the other side."
And then, just as Djibourdi had requested of him, he charged out of the dark crater and into the distance where his brothers had moved. He didn't look back.
It was a relief, Djibourdi told himself as the agonizing coughs ripped through him again and the blood dripped from his lips, that at least they had the courage to let him go. His breath was wheezing and rapid, his heart attempting to leap straight out of his chest as it began to speed up in desperation to give his body oxygen… its efforts were fruitless, he humored as his sight began to fade.
Suddenly his body was numb. There was no sound, no sensation, the light around him cast to a dull grey … until a warm light caught his eye. Minutely he turned to find its source, the feathered sound of light footfalls falling into sandy ground announcing the approach of two people. These steps were light and soft, not heavy and laden like the steel boots of the Chargers.
Djibourdi's eyes grew wide at the sight of the two men that came cantering down to him, the words he wanted to speak only emerging as weak rasps from his throat as they knelt before him.
"Red," Tombur's voice met his montrals, warm and soothing and so real, "You're too close to this side. You have to go back."
He didn't understand.
"Concentrate, little one," Warren's voice came next, and oh Force it made him want to cry, "You have to find balance."
Djibourdi managed to pull in a breath and his eyelids fell, the Living Force pouring into his body as he reached out to it. The wall of pain came back all at once but somehow, he felt detached from it… detached from the tickling of the roots against his skin, detached from the warm hands that gently held up his head – wait, hands?!
His eyes strained open, and dumbfoundedly he blinked at the glowing, yet somehow perfectly solid and warm, bodies of Tombur and Warren who were crouched in front of him. Each held a hand against his cheeks, and both of them gave him a warm smile. He probably should have been concerned that he didn't feel a beating of a heart in his chest.
"That's my boy," his master praised him, steely eyes bright.
"….how?" Djibourdi felt his tongue fight against the sticky blood that plastered his mouth, "How are you here?"
"Why do you ask questions you know the answer to, grand-padawan?" Warren returned to him, but gestured to the figures that Djibourdi hadn't noticed before then.
Though their hands fell from his face his masters didn't move beyond turning to nod to the Togruta spirits. Anari was the one who stepped toward them.
"M'adra Anari," Djibourdi whispered out.
He was half-shocked when she met him with an affectionate gaze and a smile.
"You have done well, Anari-Sitka," Her voice met his montrals like the soft chiming of a bell, the glow of her skin lighting the darkened soil around him. She referred to him as the spirit of Anari… he wasn't sure he deserved that title.
The roots that danced over his shoulders and head began to glow a soft white, and without understanding how he acknowledged the flow of Force Energy trickling into his body.
"I fear…" he had to swallow against the blood in his mouth, "I fear you have chosen the wrong messenger, Ma'dra."
"I have chosen justly, my Sitka," she corrected, coming to a stop directly in front of where he rested back into the ground, "Perhaps you have yet to understand your role."
The other ancestors, yet to speak, stepped forward… and in a flash of light the fox returned, slowly sauntering forward to where he was propped against the dark soil.
"The time has come to balance the Living Force. Shili demands it."
The roots draped across his skin pulsed a bright white, and the weapons on his arms hummed with the added energy they were receiving. The roots hidden beneath the feet of all the spirits present began to behave the same, and the Living Force's heartbeat grew loud in his montrals. Djibourdi's body, still weakened and beaten, thrummed with the collective ripple in the Force – and numbly, through his shuddering breaths, the padawan wondered when his heart had restarted.
"You are the only of us that can walk in both worlds," Anari's voice came, fuzzy to his mind as his widened eyes were glued to the sharp gaze of the fox.
It was only a foot away from him, eyes focused and ears pricked. Distantly, so very distantly, the screech of the Algol sounded… and in response, the pulsing of the roots grew brighter.
"You do not know how to use your power."
The light thrumming into his body was blinding. He couldn't breathe. The fox came closer.
"Let us show you."
Two red foreheads met in a wave of energy. Shili threw her fever as the moons locked into their rightful positions behind the clouds.
Ahsoka swore every Togruta on the mountainside snapped to attention all at once when that sound washed over them. The scream of an enraged fox raised goosebumps on all their skins, and there wasn't a spare motion to be seen among the sea of bodies. The humans and Outsiders didn't seem to hear…. Or see what the eyes of the Togruta were glued to.
It was such a contrasting bubble of energy going on where Djibourdi had disappeared. A swirling, thick, dancing mass of grey coated the land on the edge of the destroyed hospital. It sang gently with the tickling chime of bells, then hissing snaps of black electricity, then soft rumbling.
Ahsoka had almost hit her knees a moment ago because she had felt that sensation, the one that somehow Eddy felt too, before… the first time. Her own words from three years ago, the ones she had told Eddy, had immediately come back to haunt her.
"Djibourdi says he's going to die here."
"He told you this?"
"Yeah, but not with words. It's kind of like the Force…. It's hard to explain."
Djibourdi was gone. Silent. One with the Force. Then, suddenly, he was back.
This energy, this pulsating, spitting, snapping, whispering giant ball of energy was all Djibourdi, down to the last drop. She didn't understand, couldn't understand, what was happening or what she was feeling. It was a tremendous amount of energy that was rolling like tidal waves across the Living Force, and there wasn't so much as a muscle spasm from any of the Togruta near her when Anakin came to a jumping halt next to them.
"What are you guys looking at?" he near-demanded, and Ahsoka turned to look at him with an absolutely bewildered expression, "What?"
Could he not SEE it? Hear it? Feel it?
"Where's all this energy coming from?"
Oh thank the Force, he could feel it. Ahsoka felt the momentary relief. It was a very brief moment.
And then…
A sound that terrified her soul: regal and feral, ancient and young, roaring and calling all at once as it rang from curled lips and echoed through the ears and montrals of all in the presence of the guardian.
"It….can't be," she heard herself say, and then her head snapped so sharply to face Eddy as he spoke that she was sure she would have whiplash.
"You must face death, Ahsoka," he spoke flatly, numbly… fearfully, she realized when his eyes turned to hers.
His gaze went back to the fog of energy as it whipped into a frenzy, then formed itself to melt into the body that marched, with thunder in its steps, onto the remains of the hospital. The feral roar surged over them all again.
"You would do well to honor the Harbinger."
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And there it is. Glory to the Harbinger!
Happy Writing,
Eliana