Knight of the Watch, Part Three

by ArchPsion

Now the reluctant mentor of a boy set on becoming a Jedi in a galaxy controlled by the Empire, Darion Helion is hired to help a group known as the Hidden Path to escape capture by the Inquisitorious. But a mysterious Inquisitor known as the Huntsman is closing in

4. Chapter 4

Knight of the Watch, Part Three: The Hunt

I do not own Star Wars. It is property of Disney and its overlord Mickey Mouse.

Xxx

Part Three: The Hunt, Chapter Four

Tyrakhan

The Hound did not take defeat lightly.

The Huntsman took it even worse, but unlike others in the Empire understood that when faced against Jedi some measure of failure was to be expected. It wasn't like he could execute every subordinate for the slightest failure like some other particular members of the Empire's upper ranks.

The train had been found abandoned several dozen miles further past where the Hound had been ejected from it. Both control cars were disabled by way of thermal detonator- likely as a means of removing any biological evidence that could be tied to any database as well as keep the train stuck along that track for as long as possible, preventing the Empire from shipping along it or dispatching reinforcements, limiting him to aerial assets for the time being.

But his greatest asset was information.

"A second Jedi." The Huntsman repeated, standing atop the forward control car of the disabled train.

"Yes." The Hound stood behind him, on one knee. "With a red blade."

Unusual, but not out of the question. It could have been a kyber crystal off of the black market, or taken from an Inquisitor- Vader's precious brethren fell like flies and suffered weapon malfunctions with those ridiculous 'helicopter' contraptions with such frequency that he would be surprised if he never encountered a scavenged crystal from an Inquisitor's lightsaber. And when faced with the choice between remaining unarmed or taking up a bled crystal, even a Jedi padawan or youngling on the run wouldn't say no to the latter.

However, the other component of the Hound's briefing put paid to that thought.

Force Lightning. An advanced technique that not every adherent of the Dark Side could claim use of. And this twi'lek was described as young, barely an adult by all accounts. For her to wield both blade and ability of a dark acolyte yet fight in defence of a Jedi…was a puzzling as it was amusing to imagine.

"Our prey have gone to ground." The Huntsman determined, and beckoned upwards. "But they will emerge again. They need to leave Tyrakhan while evading detection before they are truly safe."

"These mountains extend for thousands of miles." The Hound stood and fell in behind his superior. "And there are caverns that were converted for use as military installations as far back as beyond the Ruusan Reformations. Bunkers. Hangars. Missile silos. They will find no shortage of places where a single vessel can safely dock, but I had ordered in advance for Probe Droids to be deployed in overlapping search patterns and TIE patrols to be doubled on all orbital approaches."

That was something the Huntsman admired about the Hound: always thinking ahead. Most others derided him as nothing but a leashed animal, but the Huntsman had an appreciation for one whose affinity for tracking and eliminating more elusive Jedi matched his own. However, this time he was thinking too far ahead.

"If these rebels had a vessel ready, they would not have bothered with gathering here." The Huntsman hypothesized. "Previous smuggling operations required that multiple groups of fugitives be brought together in order to safely evacuate as many as possible in one fell swoop."

"But why risk that? Why not move these groups individually?" The Hound asked as they came to the turbolift and descended back down into the control car. "Unless wherever they are taking these people, it is a one way trip. They want to minimize the chance of being tracked there, a risk that multiple separate groups would enhance."

There was that keen mind at work again. Oh, how the Huntsman did love to work with someone competent.

"Precisely." The Huntsman nodded as they arrived at the control room, occupied by Purge troopers and analysis droids sweeping over every inch of scorched surface. "Bringing a ship here in advance would risk it being found. They will bring it in long enough to pick up their charges at a time and place advantageous to their schedule and then depart without delay."

"Then we must find that ship." The Hound concluded.

"That is already being done." The Huntsman assured as they stepped out onto the exterior cars where the bodies of storm troopers were laid out in body pouches. "It is strange…I knew that the Jedi we seek has a padawan with a lightsaber, yet he restricted himself to a vibroblade."

He could see the fight playing out before him like he was there to witness it himself. Even as an echo in the Force this battle played out like a detailed holo-record to him. All the way to the flash of Force Lightning that sent the Hound over the edge and the crimson glow of this mystery Jedi…

"It had a cortosis weave." The Hound informed him, drawing him out of his thoughts for a moment.

That would have made it disadvantageous for fighting against other melee range weapons. Cortosis had a way of making weapons more fragile against physical trauma. It was exclusively beneficial against energy weapons…lightsabers in particular. He also wielded an arm mounted energy shield that was harder to conceal, yet could arguably have been interpreted for use against blasters. He could have discarded his lightsaber for safekeeping to prevent anyone in the port from noticing it, but so much wasn't fitting together…

"Armed for facing a lightsaber, yet lacking one while at least two others are potentially within reach." The Huntsman summarized. "He has foregone use of it before…but why now? Why when he anticipates meeting the Inquisition in battle?"

"Perhaps he hasn't one." The Hound offered. "I saw his nightmares. He has failed to protect those close to him once before. Jedi like him. Senator Curyme. He may have tossed it aside long ago in haste when leaving the old ways behind."

"Maybe." The Huntsman agreed. "Or maybe he willfully suspends himself between being a Jedi and being something else."

"He doesn't fight like one." The Hound pointed out.

"He fights like a survivor." The Huntsman stepped past the bodies. "That makes him more dangerous than you appreciate. You almost had him, but he won't fall for that trick twice. Next time we will take him together if it can be helped."

"After you've found his ship?" The Hound asked as they came to a gunship hovering just off the side of the train.

The Huntsman chuckled and stepped across to the troop bay. "I've already found it."

Xxx

The trek to the rendezvous point took them through averse and ravines with only paint markings to indicate that they were going in the right direction. The Path had made sure to mark multiple passages with multiple markings in order to throw off any Imperials, or keep wandering eyes from stumbling upon their destination by mistake. It took the better part of a day and required several stops, but the Empire never came close to finding them even when one rest stop had them by the side of a small creak that led down to a sudden long drop down the mountainside.

And the entire time spirits were high, no matter how sore one's legs got from walking or how cold the mountain air was. The refugees were relieved to have escaped the Inquisition, and the only one in higher spirits was Vasaro.

He and Flara took to one another quickly despite one being almost half as old as the other. They showed one another their lightsabers and talked about their training- with Flara understandably not going too far into detail after everything she'd told Darion back on the train.

A Sith.

A genuine Sith with a bubbly and happy personality who was even now juggling rocks alongside Vasaro for the amusement of the refugees, contesting to see who could keep it up longer.

A Sith who acted nothing like a Sith, yet wielded one of their blades with a corrupted, bled kyber crystal and unleashed Force Lightning- an ability that was a hallmark of darksiders. She knew nothing of what Jedi were like beyond what she had been told, and much of it had understandably been revised by her mentors until it was far divorced from the objective truth.

So much about her made so little sense. She showed no signs of physical corruption associated with the Sith, she acted nothing like them…and yet she very easily confessed to being raised by them- or some enclave of them anyways. She spoke of a childhood in which she was told she and her fellow Sith acolytes would be destined to bring true order to the galaxy, to overthrow the…False Sith who sat upon the throne.

The Emperor. A Sith Lord.

That made a depressing amount of sense when one considered the Inquisitors. They had to learn their ways from somewhere…

But that enclave was gone now, wiped out by the Empire in a devastating raid that saw her as the only survivor to her own awareness.

Good riddance. Cold as it might be to think that way, this Galaxy had enough Sith running around and ruling it already.

"We're here!" Flara called out from the head of the column, letting her rocks drop to the ground and ceding the contest to Vasaro.

"Yes!" The boy pumped one fist.

"You win this one, kiddo." Flara rubbed his head and nodded ahead. "Take a look."

The path opened up onto flat, wide terrain which served as a safe harbour amidst rugged pathways and step cliffs. It was marked with some old signs with mining guild symbols, indicating it was part of some long abandoned shipping or transport route used in antiquity. Now it was occupied by an encampment with some forty souls in it.

Almost ten of them hurried forward with blaster rifles to form a barrier between the refugees and the camp.

"Halt! Identify!" One of the riflemen called out.

"It's Renegade! Hold your fire!" Darion called out.

"Stand down, men!" The troopers parted to admit Vance Buur-Hal. "When we heard about the train getting hit we feared the worst. Were you followed?"

"Ditched the train and proceeded on foot." Darion answered. "They won't find us."

Vance let out a booming laugh. "Good man!" He pulled Daron into a one armed hug and beckoned the refugees forward. "Come! Join us! Everybody's here now!"

The refugees were mostly families like the group Daron had escorted. There were more children among them, some orphans whose parents had given their lives to see them to safety. Upon seeing more coming to join them there was a wave of optimism sweeping through the camp. These people, united by their collective fear of being hunted by the Empire, saw one another not just as natural allies, but as something akin to neighbours and even family. Complete strangers embraced one another like long lost siblings, children made instant friends; Darion remained on the edge of it all, observing the joyous union…

Yet this was a small gathering of less than fifty souls, with only a couple Padawans and a handful of younglings compared to the thousands of Jedi that had once defended civilization. It made his heart ache to know that the august and ancient order had been reduced to a few half trained children forced to grow up quickly, scavenging and fleeing for their lives day after day. But in these few there lay hope that the Order could one day rise again, maybe somewhere out in the depths of Wild Space or the Far Rim, even in some satellite galaxy.

If the only means by which the old religion could win was to outlive the Empire, then so be it.

Vasaro and Flara had let themselves be drawn into the festive atmosphere, the former quickly finding himself popular by virtue of possessing a lightsaber and more training than most of those his age could lay claim to. Flara herself, the antithesis of everything that Darion knew to be Sith, flourished just as easily and swiftly joined in on an impromptu folk dance in the middle of the camp.

They would be just fine with these people. They would be safe and far from the reach of the Empire.

And he could soothe his guilty conscience and ignore that nagging whisper in the back of his head.

Coward. It hissed.

He was a coward. But he'd lived with being one for four years before he ever met Vasaro. His tale wasn't one of the righteous Jedi taking up the sword once again to bring justice to the galaxy, not when the galaxy loathed and feared his kind while praising the Empire for bringing the peace and order it promised…where it could be best seen. There would be no heroic stand against evil, no valiant Knight to rally the masses around a just cause; not unless many things changed.

And until that day, Darion Helion would be nothing more than the smuggler and survivor he'd been content to be.

Surviving alone.

If that was how it had to be.

Darion walked to the edge of the camp closest to the mountainside and stared out over the expanse of snow capped peaks as the sun began to set on Tyrakhan. Time would flow past, and he would make sure to mingle only so much as needed to make the necessary arrangements. Payment was guaranteed, and the list of passengers updated.

Eventually the dreaded moment would come as Vance's scout returned from the route to the final extraction point. The refugees were instructed to pack up and prepare for one last long walk before their journey on Tyrakhan came to an end.

"Vas." Darion braced himself as the boy looked up from where he'd helped someone to shoulder a pack."…we need to talk."

He must have sensed Darion's trepidation. "What's wrong, Mr Helion?"

Flara was close enough to hear, and was listening even as she helped an older woman to her feet.

Seeing no sense in dancing around it, Darion ripped off the bacta patch. "Vasaro…I want you to go with them."

Confusion. Surprise. Realization. Agitation. These rapidly chased one another across Vasaro's face.

"What?" The boy whispered. "But…why?"

"Vas…I can't be the one who teaches you to become a Jedi." Darion pushed forth now that he had committed to this. "But with these people, wherever they're going, you won't need me to teach you. You'll have the holocron, you'll have any Jedi who manage to join you. You'll…you'll live long enough to achieve that dream."

Vasaro sucked in a breath, eyes filled with anxiety. "But…you're my teacher. Haven't I done well under you? I've done everything you said!"

"Vas, you have done everything and more and you have been nothing but the perfect student." Darion assured him, kneeling down to Vasaro's level. "But if you stay with me, you'll never fulfill that dream. I told you before about…why I don't use the Force as much, about that darkness I carry…and how us forming a Padawan bond could let it reach you. I can't stand the idea of exposing you to my demons…to my darkness. If the only way to ensure that you grow up safe is to be away from you…then I will do that."

"No!" Vasaro shook his head and grabbed onto Darion. "Mr Helion, please! I- you promised you'd teach me! You can't just…you can't just send me away like this! We can stop. I don't need to train- or use the Force! Please…please don't do this…" He choked back a sob.

It wasn't that he was worried about losing a teacher. He'd lost his father, his home…and the only constant in all of that had been Darion. He feared losing it all over again.

Darion tenderly pulled the boy into a hug. "Vas…I'm not taking you with me." He said firmly, resolving to carry through, and slowly broke the embrace and eased the teary eyed Vasaro back. "Go with them. Live. Grow. Become a Jedi like your mother and forget about me."

Vasaro backed away as if he'd been struck. Through their fledgling bond, which Darion had deliberately suppressed from fully forming, he could feel the boy's anxiety and devastation.

"You lied…" Vasaro's voice cracked as he shook his head. "You lied."

Now Darion felt like he'd been struck with a lightsaber as he watched the boy storm away into the deconstructing encampment.

"Darion…" Flara finally turned to face them with a concerned expression. "He's scared. You'Rae the closest to a family that he has left and- you leaving feels like abandoning him. You might not be his mentor, but you mean more to him than that. You're important to him." She looked around. "And I don't know if he really would be much safer with these people than with you. This…what you're doing, it reeks of guilt, and you're letting yours control you. That isn't fair to him."

Darion stood up. "It's not guilt." He denied firmly. "I've dealt with guilt for four years. It's….it's because…"

"Because what?" She pressed.

"Because I would rather die with him hating me than live to see my ghosts haunt him." Darion said with an edge in his tone.

"Is that what you meant before? About your…darkness?" Flara lowered her voice as she stepped in closer.

"…yes." Darion whispered, eyes shut. "Every time that I train him, I can feel our bond growing stronger. Every time I use the Force there are things that I have to struggle to keep from traversing it. I carry death with me, Flara…the death of many people who I cared for. Their voices, their memories…their final moments…their ghosts. And if Vasaro stays with me, he'll be forced to endure all of that too."

"You don't think that he'd willingly face that alongside you?" Flara pointed in the direction that Vasaro had vanished. "That boy thinks the world of you."

"I know. And I know he would." Darion replied as he turned away.

"And you're fine with sending him away and taking it on alone?" She followeed him towards the edge of the camp. "Is that what you really want?"

"What I want-" Darion spun to face her, "-stopped mattering long ago. I couldn't save my friends…my family…his father. If the only way that I can save him is this, then I'll pay the consequence. He'll be safe with you…and that's all that matters."

Flara deflated, looking at him sadly. "What about what he wants? This isn't selfless and you know it."

"It isn't." Darion agreed. "But I suppose that's just more proof…" He turned and walked out beyond the camp boundary. "…that I'm no Jedi."

Xxx

The return to the planetary capital was…painful. It didn't take nearly as long thanks to him finding a travel station and hitching a ride by speeder, but to Darion it was the longest trip of his life.

You have no right to feel any regrets, Helion. He snapped at himself. You chose this. This is what's for the best. For you…for Vas…for everyone.

He'd found himself a nice quiet cantina in the city to help him drink some of his sorrows away before taking his leave of the planet. The tender droid's lack of commentary and the scarcity of other patrons made it ideal for him.

Chatter on the local networks indicated that the Empire had lost track of the refugees entirely. They were sweeping every inch of the mountain range for a clue about where they'd gone…and they'd be searching for months before they found anything.

Far be it from him to cut that short.

In a few hours it would all be done. By now the Hidden Path would be nearing their final extraction point, a ship in orbit would be vectoring to pick them up…and he would never see Vasaro again. He could go back to the status quo and consider the entire matter put to rest.

He'd just have to deal with the ghost of Yvak Curyme looking at him in disappointment. What's one more ghost when he had so many already?

Staring numbly at a holonet broadcast of the latest piece of Imperial propaganda, Darion joined in a barely audible toast to the Emperor that nobody else present really put any spirit into and raised his hand to call for another round…

When a chilling breeze swept through the cantina. It wasn't the outside air, he'd come to recognize that from the few patrons to come and go. This…it went through his clothes and reached his bones.

Oh…there you are.

Darion's eyes shot wide open and he rapidly worked to cloak himself in the Force, suppressing any physical reaction and keeping himself anchored to his bar stool.

Unexpected, but not unwelcome. Why come back here? Trying to lead us off the trail? Very brave…but foolish.

Acting the part of a half-inebriate, Darion took his next round with him to a table closer to a holonet broadcast of a race on some far away world. His eyes swept the cantina for signs of the dark voice's origin.

Don't be so shy. I've been quite keen on meeting the man who's caused so much trouble…and his padawan.

Darion found his new seat and tried to block it out, taking a deep swig of his drink and reaching for the stim-container on his belt. One pill and he'd be unable to hear, unable to be tracked….he could leave at his leisure.

I suppose I'll have to make due with him, if you won't come out.

Darion fumbled with the container.

No…it's a bluff…

You didn't know? The dark voice adopted a playful tone. Your distraction is in vain, Master-Jedi.

It was a bluff. It had to be. The Path was safe. Vasaro was safe.

We've known that this world is the last in network for a while. And we've known which vessel would come to collect. It would have been preferable to apprehend them long before now so we could follow it to other insurgent groups, but I suppose that in return for several dozen fugitives it will be a worthwhile exchange. So many new Inquisitors to train…

Darion dropped his cup and scraped his chair back. He tossed a credit chit to the barkeep droid and made for the back door, making sure to don and close his helmet.

Going somewhere?

He used the Force to unlock the door and was barely two steps outside when he was ripped off his feet. Oxygen expelled from his lungs as he was pressed flat against the alley wall…while a tall figure clad in black stepped into view, a red tinted visor staring up at him and one claw tipped glove held out.

"Hello there," the Inquisitor, a different one from before, greeted him. "Pleased to finally meet you,, Jedi."

Darion grunted as he strained against the iron clad hold the Inquisitor had on him. "I'm…no…Jedi…"

"Yet you carry their obsession so well." The Inquisitor chortled. "I'm almost disappointed that this is where the chase ends. But tell me…did you really separate from your padawan to draw us away? Or…is that guilt that you carry around like chains around your neck to indicate that you had some ulterior motive?"

Darion coughed. "I don't have a padawan! He's just…a child…they're no threat…they're all…just…fleeing…"

"Fleeing the lawful mandate of their Emperor." The Inquisitor agreed. "Fortunately, that will be corrected. You have failed, Master-Jedi. The insurgents will be met by the full force of the Empire. They will be corralled. Executed. Or for those young enough…educated in the ways of the Inquisition so that they too may serve the Emperor proudly one day. Just like me."

No…it was happening all over again!

"There it is…" The Inquisitor said in satisfaction. "That realization that you have utterly and truly…failed."

A crimson lightsaber sprang to life in one hand.

"Let's not draw this out then."

No. It couldn't end this way. Vas. Flara. All of those people. He'd delivered them right to the Empire's hands!

"Farewell, Master-Jedi." The Inquisitor positioned the lightsaber with the tip inches from Darion's throat, and then thrust forward.

It couldn't end this way…

And for a moment, he thought it had.

The Inquisitor's lightsaber was so close that he could feel the heat bleeding off of its crimson blade. But the Inquisitor had been stopped cold, struggling to apply pressure to push the weapon those last few inches.

"Hngh. Impressive." He said. "I suppose you would have a few tricks to survive this long."

But then they, like Darion, noted some movement in their peripheral vision. Shapes began to emerge from the shadowed corners of the alley, from behind objects and even from overhead, crawling down the walls.

Come…home…

It was whispers at first. Just one. Then several.

Come home…

The Inquisitor turned away from Darion, letting him drop to the floor of the alley. "What is this…?"

Darion coughed and scrambled up the wall to a standing position. "This…is no trick." He gasped. "This…is all of my failure. Have fun with it."

They now entered view. Emaciated and bony figured in tattered burnt robes and armour. Sunken, dark eye sockets stared with condemnation as they shuffled and dragged themselves across the ground.

Come. Home. They chanted. Come. Home!

The Inquisitor ignited a second lightsaber, holding each weapon out to one side to cover both approaches. "An illusion. Nothing more." He said dismissively, though Darion could feel in him a growing fear…the fear of a prey realizing they were cornered by predators.

One of the red blades came towards Darion's neck, but his energy shield sprang to lift and sent it glancing high while he delivered a frontal kick that knocked the Inquisitor back. The phantoms surged forth at once, springing upon the darksider who lashed out with the Force, finding that it held their grasping, rotting claws at bay. Darion took this chance to hurry towards one end of the alley.

"You can't save them!" The Inquisitor called after him. "They're already dead! You have failed!"

Darion ran faster than he had in years. The Force propelled his steps and made his return to the starport take mere minutes as he vaulted over or slid under obstacles. As he raced towards the Renegade Star's boarding ramp he fumbled for the latches of his helmet.

"Reggie!" He shouted at the top and threw the helmet aside. "Take off! Take off now!"

Recognizing the urgency, the astromech obeyed without any snark or objection despite Vasaro's absence. The freighter lifted up and took off by the time he'd made it to his own quarters.

They're going to die. He hauled himself towards the fresher and stared at his pale, pain stricken face They're going to die, and it's all my fault.

It was a repeat of history. The day that Yvak had been murdered. That Darion had delivered him into the hands of his murderers without realizing it. Now he'd done the same for almost half a hundred others!

Come home…come home…you bring death everywhere else, so just come home…

Darion could feel them crowding into the room behind him. He gripped the edges of the sink and doubled over as he felt the urge to vomit, his entire body trembling and his heart racing faster than a swoop bike.

Come. Home! They insisted, seizing upon this moment of weakness. Come! Home!

Darion tore himself away from the mirror and pushed his way through the throng of necrotized flesh and hollow eye sockets. He felt the icy sting of their hands on him as they tried to hold him back from his destination.

COME! HOME! They chanted as he fell to his knees. COME! HOME!

With trembling hands he forced himself to dive into the Force, ripping opens floor compartment. "No…I can't." He whispered.

You shall! They snarled. When they join us, like all you've failed, you will COME HOME-

A bright light filled the compartment, chasing away the phantoms as they were swept aside as if by a powerful tide. Darion exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd held and stared at the source of that light, gripped in his numb hands…

A lightsaber.

His lightsaber.

It felt so at home in his hands, like it had missed being held by him.

"I can't fail them." He said. "Not again. Never again."

He could not see them, but in the depths of the Force those very same people who he envisioned blaming him for their demise…would feel that the balance had tipped back towards the light, even if just a little.

Xxx

End of Chapter