Chapter Twenty-Four
AITHNE
"It wanted you to be Revan, didn't it?" Carth asked.
They stared down at the inactive holo-interface. "Yeah," Aithne answered.
Ever since they'd rescued Bastila on Taris and Aithne had realized she'd been dreaming about her for months, she had had an increasing sense of unease, of wrongness. She felt haunted, like ghosts were clawing at the edges of her brain, trying to take her over. Well. One ghost in particular. It seemed like Revan's shade was trying to personally devour her.
"You come . . . come pretty damn close," Carth observed. "Close enough for whatever neural scan technology is in that thing, anyway. Enough for it to find an initial match and to pass you through after a fight."
"Yeah."
"What would she have done, in charge of a restless city being attacked by a weak enemy state?"
Aithne looked at him. "I think everything depends on the timeline. Whether you're asking about Revan, defender of the little guys out on the Rim, or the person Revan turned into. But if you're asking me?"
Carth jerked his head, indicating she should go on.
Aithne looked away. "If I'm in charge of a city's protection, I protect it, whether or not they appreciate me for it. A job's a job."
"You know, you aren't Revan," Carth offered after a moment, without looking at her. "I mean, whether you're seeing Revan's memories in your dreams or not, whether you can put yourself in that headspace or not . . . however you're doing it. Whatever darkness was in Revan that made them betray the Republic, you don't have to accept that into you. You can see the ruthless thing to do—the pragmatic course of action without reference to ethics or decency—you can see that without . . . without doing it. And you do that."
"Thanks, Carth," Aithne said, and meant it.
"Now that we've got what you came for, we should be heading back to the treetops," Jolee observed.
Aithne shook her head. "Honestly, the Star Map was a diversion this trip," she said. "We came down here for Freyyr. Chuundar wants us to kill him. I want to recruit him instead. Possibly stage a coup."
"You mean you definitely want to stage a coup," Carth said, folding his arms. "Could be dangerous."
"If we can talk Freyyr into it, I'll warn the others on Ebon Hawk," Aithne promised. "When we get to Rwookrrorro, I'll go straight for Big Z, with the first priority being to arm him for the fallout. But I really think exposing Chuundar and setting that village right is the best thing we can do here." When Carth didn't argue, but instead gave a resigned half-smile and a shrug, Aithne turned to Jolee. "Do you have any idea where we might find Freyyr?"
Jolee closed his eyes, and Aithne knew he was searching for the Wookiee through the Force. Since he had met the ex-chieftain before, he had the advantage there. "I think I can take you to him," he said.
It was a long walk in silence to the place Jolee had sense Freyyr. Eventually, though, Aithne spotted a tall, powerful Wookiee in the murky shadows. He carried a rusty vibroblade, and his fur was liberally streaked with gray. When he spotted them, he howled out a challenge. /More of you Czerka Core-rats? Is even the heart of Kashyyyk free from your kind?/
"He's almost feral after all this time," Jolee said in a low voice to Aithne. Louder, he spoke to Freyyr. "Calm yourself, Freyyr. We are friends. Don't you remember me?"
/After years in the Shadowlands, I remember only that outsiders are not to be trusted!/ Freyyr roared. /I'll see you dead!/
Aithne held her ground and didn't even activate her lightsabers. "At least he hates slavers?" she murmured to the others.
Jolee just grunted. He had no such compunctions about drawing his weapon and took up a defensive stance. "This may prove difficult."
Freyyr charged.
Aithne shoved out with the Force and knocked Freyyr back a few feet. The Wookiee rose and attempted to attack again. Aithne reached out again with the Force and knocked his blade from his hands, then shoved him down yet again. Freyyr rose yet again and attempted to attack a third time. Aithne shoved once more, harder still, and Freyyr fell to his knees. This time, he did not rise.
/I . . . I am beaten/ he said, his breathing labored after struggling against the Force. Aithne hadn't done much more than bruise and disarm him. /Take my head, Czerka filth! You won't get another chance. So swears Freyyr of Kashyyyk./
Aithne put her hands on her hips. "In your experience, do Czerka Core-rats usually use the Force?" she asked. Chuundar looked up sharply, surprised by her reference to something he had said in his own language, surprised she had understood him. Deliberately, Aithne pulled her lightsabers from her wrist sheaths and set them on the ground in front of him. "Listening? Good. I'm not here to kill you. I'm not a slaver. I think the practice degrading for everyone concerned, the worst kind of abuse a person or entity can inflict upon another, and bad business besides—a slave will never work as hard or show the kind of loyalty of a free person earning fair wages. I want to wipe slavery out here on Kashyyyk, or at least give it a good kick in the pants, and I think you can help me."
Freyyr rose warily to his feet. /The words of outsiders are tainted with lies,/ he said, but his tone was not threatening. /You can't convince me otherwise./
"I don't know," Aithne said. "I can be pretty persuasive. Look. Do you know Zaalbar and Chuundar?"
Freyyr tensed. /What? Those are my sons! Why do you speak their names? Tell me!/
"My name is Aithne Moran," Aithne explained. "I came to Kashyyyk with Zaalbar."
/To my shame, Zaalbar was exiled and enslaved,/ Freyyr said wearily. /Do you dare claim to be my son's owner, outsider?/
Aithne took a breath. "Zaalbar may have been a slave before, but to my knowledge, it has never been for more than a few days' duration, and he has never been a slave of mine. I freed him the last time he was captured, and he swore a lifedebt to me. In turn, I promised to honor his debt and care for him. By your laws, he follows me as long as I live. By mine, he's a retainer in my service, and the Jedi Order pays him. I insisted on it."
/If he has sworn a lifedebt to you, he sees something of worth in you,/ Freyyr said. /I will listen . . . cautiously. Gullibility has armed me in the past. If I had seen the lies of Chuundar, he would have been exposed as a slaver. Zaalbar would not have been exiled. I did not believe Zaalbar's claims,/ he confessed, /I believed the elder boy, as tradition dictated. The shame of Zaalbar's attack blinded me./
Behind her, Aithne could hear Jolee translating again for Carth. "What exactly happened?" she asked.
/Zaalbar saw it first,/ Freyyr related. /He learned that Chuundar was dealing with the Czerka, leading them to our hunting parties. Chuundar would blame disappearances on the dangers of the Shadowlands. Zaalbar was crazed when he found out. He attacked Chuundar with his claws. I thought he had gone mad, shed his honor. I was bound by the old ways./
"And Zaalbar was exiled," Aithne finished. "When did you learn the truth?"
/A year later,/ Freyyr said. /By then, Chuundar had spread lies of my own madness. I had no allies when I confronted him. He and his Czerka guards attacked me. I had to retreat to the deepest Shadowlands, but even there they followed./
"That's when I first saw him," Jolee cut in. "I helped his pursuers lose him for a moment. Do you remember me now, Freyyr?"
Freyyr lifted his lips in a Wookiee smile. Aithne found herself wondering exactly how the man had managed to help the Wookiee escape his pursuers. She looked sideways at Jolee. He winked at her.
Freyyr spoke to Jolee. /Yes, I think I do. I am sorry about attacking. It's been so long since I have offered my trust or accepted that of someone else./
"Will you trust me and help me now?" Aithne asked. "Help set right what went wrong all those years ago?"
/There is a way I might challenge Chuundar,/ Freyyr said, /but it would take a lot to convince people they have been lied to./
Something in his tone made Aithne wary. She'd hoped breaking up Chuundar's rule on Rwookrrorro would just be a matter of getting Chuundar back there and with Big Z. "Exactly what would it take?"
/Chuundar has a strong web of lies,/ Freyyr explained, /but if I appeal to the traditions of my people, I might be able to gather support. There is a legend of a great warrior from the old times. Bacca was his name, and he is greatly revered. Bacca found a crashed starship, our first hint of life elsewhere. He was a cautious old wook and feared the taint of invaders. He constructed a vibroblade from the wreckage. It has long symbolized our independence. Only destined leaders have held it./
Aithne made a face. "You need to signal divine or ancestral favor upon you and Zaalbar, despite your actions, in order to successfully oust Chuundar, who, while morally bankrupt, has proven the more successful politician among your people. Yes?" When Freyyr just looked dejected, Aithne sighed. "Where's the thing?"
/That is the problem,/ said Freyyr, shifting. He refused to meet her eyes now. /It was the symbol of our great chieftains for centuries, but it was damaged a generation ago in ritual battle. Here in the Shadowlands, Rothrrrawr fought the Great Beast./
Somehow Aithne knew, even before Freyyr said anything else. Beside her, Jolee said something foul.
"What is it?" Carth asked.
She looked at him. "We're going to have to fight that terentatek."
/He sought a challenge,/ Freyyr continued, /but this arrogance got him more than he could handle. He survived, but the blade of the sword stayed in the creature's hide. Our tales say it was taken because we had become undeserving. The hilt is still in the court of or chieftain . . . with Chuundar. If the blade could be found, Aithne Moran, tradition could cast doubt on his rule./
"Okay, so our choices are: murder Big Z's father for his traitorous, slaving scum of a son; slaughter a good bit of the village of Rwookrrorro to rescue our friend; or attempt to slay a legendary Dark Side beast created by Sith sorcerors specifically to terrorize the Jedi and try to reclaim half a sword from it that may be lost or rusted away in the first place. Anyone want to advocate for a bit of easy, nonjustifiable homicide?" Aithne asked.
She looked back at the others. Jolee looked wry, and Carth's jaw was tight, but neither man spoke up. She smiled at them, a bit rueful. "We're gonna tell Bastila about this one, flyboy," she told Carth. "And never let it be said I shrink from the Path of the Light, however deadly it might look." She turned back to Freyyr. "We'll do it. Where are we headed?"
/Fresh blood will draw it out,/ Freyyr explained. /Before Chuundar's rule put an end to the ritual, fresh kills were often left as offerings in the south of this area. Go to the place of ritual. If the Great Beast is to be lured out of hiding, it must be done there, using the old ways. You'll need some bait, however./
"Jolee?" Aithne asked, "Aren't all those kinrath corpses near here?"
Jolee nodded. Freyyr continued.
/A viper kinrath body will do well. Display it, and the creature will emerge. I will stay here and try to think of what I will say to Zaalbar. I have wronged him. I hope he can forgive me. I will be here. Please, Aithne Moran, find the blade of Bacca's sword. I must make things right./
Fifteen minutes later, Aithne and Carth between them hoisted a kinrath corpse onto a vine in the place of ritual Freyyr had mentioned. "Remember—this is a time you don't want to use the Force, Bindo. I wish we had a second spare vibroblade for you, but we don't, but even using the Force to track your 'saber beam could make this thing rush to rip you apart. Sure you don't want a blaster?"
"Been too long since I've used one, lass," Jolee told her. "But if you could keep the terentatek from ripping me apart, I'd be grateful."
An unearthly roar suddenly shattered the stillness of the clearing. Aithne whirled around, and there it was. Giant, unexpectedly quick, and venomous to top it all. Specifically bred to kill Jedi like her. Bipedal, but with unnaturally long arms tipped with dripping claws. The spikes down its back dripped with the same toxin.
Aithne activated her melee shield, set her jaw, and rushed the thing. She took a claw to the gut for her trouble. It didn't pierce her shields, but the sheer force of it threw her back a meter and a half into a tree root. Her back hit, and suddenly she was hurt all over, seeing stars and staggering at the very beginning of the fight. The terentatek roared with fury. It fixed her with baneful red eyes, night-vision adapted, which shone through the gloom of the Shadowlands. It lowered its head, readied its tusks, and prepared to charge.
Carth shouted from her left, loud enough to draw the terentatek's attention, and as soon as it looked, he fired. Onasi had a fondness for fancy eye shots, Aithne thought, somewhat dazed, as the creature screamed and one of its glowing red eyes went dark. The terentatek leapt, but then Jolee was there, springing at the monster with a Form IV strike toward the shoulder, distracting it again. The terentatek rolled the shoulder, swinging its massive arm to retaliate, but Bindo was already halfway across the Wookiee ritual ground. The air filled with the stench of burning flesh.
The terentatek eyed the three of them with a new wariness now, a look of cunning in its one good eye. Then Carth fired again. More green blood gushed down over the terentatek's snout, and all thought the beast might have had of a more cautious approach fled. It began to stomp around in a blind, pain-fueled rage, swinging out at random to try and catch them. As it turned, a gleam of metal caught the light off Jolee's 'saber, a sword blade half-embedded in an old scar in the creature's side.
"Guys? I found Bacca's Blade," Aithne shouted.
"Great," Carth yelled back, running across her path and firing his blasters into the terentatek's flank as it lunged toward her. "Can we grab it after we've killed this thing?"
Jolee darted in to take his turn, and in a tag-team effort, they wore it down. Aithne wasn't the only one who had been thrown into a tree by the end of it. Jolee joined her, and Aithne took another crushing blow on her shoulder from the creature's club tail. At last, with the terentatek seeping green blood from a dozen different wounds and Aithne and Jolee both staggering from their efforts—as Jedi, the terentatek had fought them more fiercely than it had Carth—Aithne took in a last breath against her protesting bones and charged. She thrust with her double-bladed vibrosword and felt the tip pierce the creature's heart.
It roared, and Aithne cut. Green blood gushed forth, spraying her face-to-waist with gore. Aithne cried out in disgust but didn't withdraw her blade until she felt the monster die. It fell to the ground, and she stepped back and knelt to wipe her blade clean on the dirt. Even if she couldn't get clean, she could see to her vibrosword.
"Ugh, ugh, ugh!" she complained. "Onasi, why did I decide I wanted this thing instead of a lightsaber, which cauterizes as it cuts?"
"You were trying to get the terentatek to spread the aggression around—so, to attack me more," Carth answered. "That worked. You and Jolee both took some knocks."
"Burnt out a whole energy shield too," Jolee added. "Lass, you alright? You had the worst of it."
Aithne grimaced. "Oh, I probably won't need to move tomorrow anyway."
"On the plus side, when we head back to get Zaalbar, you should look terrifying," Carth commented.
"I'd prefer the shower," Aithne retorted. "Come on."
"Hold on a minute, would you?" Jolee said. "Here." He stepped to her and placed a warm hand on her shoulder. Energy flowed into her. Her melee energy shield had kept the terentatek spikes from piercing her skin or armor, but hadn't stopped the mass of the impact. The throbbing, exhausting pain from the blow now soothed, then abated. Aithne rolled her shoulder in Jolee's grip and sighed.
"You're pretty good at that, Bindo," she observed.
"It was my specialty, back in the day."
"I can tell."
He handed her a small, tattered bag. "I found this near the terentatek as well."
Aithne looked in the bag. A circlet—the type that enhanced the brainwaves of the wearer—was inside, along with a datapad. Aithne skimmed the datapad, then looked up at Jolee. "There's an archivist back on Dantooine, where we're returning next. He'll want to see this. It's a record of the three Jedi who went on the Great Hunt. Tells of how they fell to the Dark Side. This circlet belonged to one of him. I'm guessing he died right here."
"Nice to discover history just going about your business," Jolee remarked. "But we should return to Freyyr."
They did so, and when they had returned to the Wookiee's clearing, Freyyr greeted them. /I see from your clothes you have engaged in a great battle,/ he said. /Please tell me you have made progress. Having Bacca's Blade will gain me valuable support./
Aithne regarded Freyyr. "You know, if I were still scouting, I could charge a fortune for this," she said. She sighed, then pulled out the sword blade from her pack, wrapped in a length of cloth so she didn't cut her hands. "Achieving the impossible yet again, yadda yadda, we have obtained the blade of Bacca's sword. Here."
She handed it over. /I . . . I cannot believe it, yet I see Bacca's Blade before me!/ Freyyr exclaimed, running his claws over and over the blade. /It may not look like much, but it is a very important artifact of my people. Tradition dictates that it be respected./ He looked up then, and there was regret in his eyes. He bowed before them. /I did not think I was worthy to search for it, but I realize that was selfish despair. I should have challenged Chuundar long ago./
"Yes, you should have," Aithne agreed. "Will you do it now?"
Freyyr threw his powerful, shaggy shoulders back. /I will,/ he swore. /I will make amends for my inaction. I have new hope. You have led me to this. Perhaps this is what the Great Beast wanted./
Aithne grimaced. "I'm pretty sure what the Great Beast wanted was Jedi for dinner, but fine, let's go with that. How do we proceed?"
/I will climb to the village as quickly as possible and try to gather support,/ Chuundar told them. /You will have to follow me on the paths as soon as you can. When you arrive, we will confront Chuundar in the throne room. My people will no longer be slaves./ With that, he turned immediately and began to scale one of the massive wroshyrs.
A thrill of hope and satisfaction passed through Aithne. She watched the old Wookiee rise, and couldn't help but smile. If only they could set things right on such a scale everywhere they went.
"Well, we've started a revolt," Carth said. "You were right about the trouble we'd have today this morning, anyway. We should comm Bastila and the others."
"You're right," Aithne admitted, pulling up her com-link. "Aithne to Ebon Hawk, Aithne to Ebon Hawk. Bas, where are you?"
The link crackled, and Bastila's voice came through the connection. "This is Bastila Shan. Hello, Aithne. Have you made much progress?"
"You could say that," Aithne answered. "We've got a new set of coordinates from the Star Map down here, and Big Z's father is headed for the surface to instigate a revolt against Chuundar and the Czerka Corporation. I want you to lock down and arm Ebon Hawk. If resistance at the port gets too hot, I want you to fly her into orbit with Ordo and Juhani on the guns and await further instructions to a rendezvous."
"Understood," Bastila responded, voice crisp. "But may I suggest I give the comm to Canderous unless evacuation becomes necessary? I can use my Battle Meditation to meditate upon our success."
"I wouldn't order you to do that, but it could come in handy," Aithne admitted.
"Do not be afraid to ask it of me, when it is appropriate," Bastila told her. "We will have to use all our resources to succeed in our mission from the Jedi Council. And Aithne?"
"Yes?"
"It is good you were able to find a way to disrupt Czerka influence on Kashyyyk," Bastila said. "The Force will be with you, I am certain, and you will return to us with Zaalbar before long."
"That's the plan. Over and out."
They had been walking through the forest, with Jolee and Carth serving as forward and rearguards, as Aithne spoke to Bastila. Now they had arrived at the wounded Wookiee's rough camp. He had waited for them, as he'd promised. /You return,/ he said. /Have you found them? Did you kill them all? They were animals in armor, with no honor among them./
Carth rummaged in his pack and tossed the Wookiee the Mandalorian leader's helmet. "They won't be bothering you or any of your hunters again," he promised.
The Wookiee looked at the helmet he held. /Yes . . . yes, I see the trophy helmet from the one who gave orders. Their bodies will not last long in the Shadowlands. I am glad. The taint of them, their cowardice . . . the forest will consume it all. I hope this gives my hunting brethren peace./
Although she believed the Mandalorians who had hunted and murdered the Wookiees certainly had deserved to die, Aithne was still a little uncomfortable with the way and the reasons for which she'd killed them. So she attempted to simply bow and pass the Wookiee. But he held up a claw to stop her.
/You have helped in avenging my fellows. I must acknowledge that, even if you are an outsider and not to be fully trusted./
"You are not the first to call me 'Outsider,'" Aithne said. "If you wish a name, however, mine is Aithne Moran."
/I am Grrwahr,/ the Wookiee told her. /You have acted as a fellow Wookiee would have. Here, take this./ He handed her a small token. /It is the symbol of my hunting clan,/ he said. /You served them, so you deserve it./
Aithne hesitated, then said, "I am honored to accept your tribute, but if you would truly be of service, I would have you return to your village. Freyyr challenges Chuundar for the leadership of Rwookrrorro, and each Wookiee he has to support him could make a difference. This could be the chance for you all to rid yourselves of the Czerka slavers."
/You would accuse Chuundar of collaborating with the Czerka filth?/ Grrwahr demanded. /And Freyyr, he is not slain?/
Aithne hesitated, then began to do her own work to build Freyyr's support in the village.
ZAALBAR
Zaalbar had been nearly two days with Chuundar by the time Aithne Moran returned. He had been well treated—fed quantities and qualities of food such as he had not had since leaving his homeworld, and neither restrained nor abused—yet forced to remain with Chuundar every moment for fear of his own life. It was only his brother's indulgence that kept the other villagers from tearing him apart, since he had returned from exile.
Chuundar had made the most of their time with one another. He said he was glad of their reunion, that he regretted the way their father and Zaalbar had both turned upon him when he only wanted the best for Rwookrrorro. He showed Zaalbar treasures the trade with Czerka had brought them from off-planet, claimed forging a friendship with the humans would advance the power and influence of Wookiee wisdom throughout the galaxy.
The price of the power Chuundar wanted seemed too dear to Zaalbar. Yet Chuundar was right when he said, again and again, that kinslaying was a grievous sin. Zaalbar knew he had lost his own honor when he had attacked his brother with his claws, intending to kill. Perhaps he should have listened twenty years ago, before his anger had driven him to madness. Chuundar said that Zaalbar could restore his own honor, could be his brother again and be reconciled to the village, in time.
Zaalbar did not know what to do or what he wanted. He knew Chuundar to be a liar and a slaver, and yet several things he said rang true. It was true as well that Aithne might not fare well in the Shadowlands. It was a blow to him, yet another stain to his honor, and if he could not return to Mission—for while he had not been imprisoned, he knew Chuundar would not allow him to leave—he would grieve for years to come, perhaps as long as Mission herself might live.
Yet the evening that Zaalbar himself had at last begun to consider how he should live if Aithne did not return, she returned at last. She came into the throne room with Carth Onasi and a small, dark human male Zaalbar didn't know: another Jedi, by the robes he wore and the lightsaber he carried. With them were four Wookiee warriors from the village, and in the lead, a thin, older wook with a graying, shaggy pelt. Had he been two decades younger, Zaalbar would have known him well.
His hearts gave a pang, for the old wook was his father, Freyyr, last seen exiling him from the village.
Chuundar was surprised at their entrance, and then he was very displeased. "Oh, that's just great. Everyone is here now! It's a reunion!" The sarcasm in his voice was a heavy thing.
Freyyr lifted the broken blade of a sword high above his head. Zaalbar fixed his eyes upon it, awed. It was Bacca's Blade. He had seen pictures again and again in his lessons as a child. It had been lost to their village for generations. "
"Yes, son, by the blade of Bacca's sword, I've come to end your treachery," Zaalbar's father roared. "No more will you sell your own people!"
Wookiees around the room began to growl. Chuundar shifted. Although Czerka gave him supplies and treasure, it was not known in the village why they did this: that he was party to their slaving operations and had sold many of his enemies, powerless and uninfluential members of their own village, and Wookiees from other villages into captivity. No one knew this was the reason he had argued with Zaalbar and with Freyyr. He had claimed Freyyr was dead. Now Freyyr stood, making public what Chuundar had done, and he brought Bacca's Blade. It was a powerful sign that he was rightful chieftain of Rwookrrorro.
Yet Chuundar forced a laugh. "You have Bacca's Blade? So what? I have the hilt, held by each true chieftain in recent memory. Even you claimed it was all-important!" He hoisted it high, showing the Wookiees around the room. "We both have our ancient trinkets. So, who will the people follow? You? You are old and weak."
Zaalbar did not like the way his father and brother looked at one another. He did not like the grumbling through the throne room. "Shut up!" he cried suddenly. "Both of you! This ends today! I . . . I will not let Rwookrrorro suffer anymore!"
/Alright, Big Z?/ Aithne asked him. The sound of her nasal human voice, after two days when the only humans he had heard speaking were the Czerka, was strange for him to hear. Yet, the name, "Big Z," reminded him of Mission. It reminded him of friends, of the life he had lived for the last few years, and what family was supposed to mean.
"I am unharmed," he told her. "Chuundar has not harmed me. He says he wants to make amends. He has been telling me things, Aithne Moran. He makes sense . . . I think. I don't know."
Aithne's mobile human face twisted into what Zaalbar knew was an expression of sympathy. She was covered in blood, he saw, though he saw also it was not her own. Her time in the Shadowlands had been a trial for her. /He would make sense, Zaalbar,/ Aithne told him. /He's been lying for years. Of course he's gotten good at it. I'm glad he hasn't hurt you, but I'm not surprised. He's probably been lonely. The way he's treated his own people has left him with no one to trust. Do you trust him? Or do you trust your father? He treated you badly twenty years ago, but has he ever acted with dishonor?/
Zaalbar looked to his father, who met his eyes. An understanding passed between them. Chuundar had said that Freyyr himself had attacked Chuundar with his claws, gone mad in the years they had been apart. He claimed Zaalbar's madness was inherited from their poor father, that only he, Chuundar, was in possession of his right mind. He had been unable to help their father, but he wanted to help Zaalbar now.
Now Zaalbar wondered whether their father had instead gone mad with the grief and betrayal of what Chuundar had done, after he had believed Chuundar's lies before and exiled Zaalbar. The exile had not been wrong, however: Zaalbar's madness at the time had been deserving of punishment. His father had endured his own punishment now: twenty years in the Shadowlands. Could both of them be given a second chance? To trust one another? To help their people?
"Aithne Moran—is this right?" Zaalbar asked—his lifedebt, his friend, and the woman who was becoming as another sister, and not the Wookiee who had exiled his youngest son.
Aithne Moran reached behind her and removed a massive double vibroblade from where it had been fastened to the back of her pack. She hefted it into the air, and Zaalbar reached up and caught the hilt in his claws. /Freedom or slavery?/ she asked him. /Truth or lies?/
Zaalbar looked down at the sword in his hands. He regretted what he must do now, especially after the way Chuundar had treated him after his attempted kinslaying. Yet, it was good that now he must attack, he would do so with a blade. "I choose freedom," he said. "I choose truth. Chuundar, you have betrayed your people," he said, taking up a position of challenge. "You must pay."
Several Wookiees around the room readied themselves to fight as well—to support Chuundar or Freyyr and the others, Zaalbar did not know. "That's my boy!" Freyyr cried.
Zaalbar ignored him, focusing instead on Aithne Moran and the way he would need to move in the upcoming battle to get to her side.
"You're too weak to fight, old wook," Chuundar snarled, taking his own vibroblade from his back. "And I still have Czerka support! We'll see who dies today!"
He charged Freyyr, and the Czerka who had been standing in their corners around the room brought up blaster rifles and opened fire. Fortunately, though the villagers had stripped Zaalbar of his weapons when he had been taken, they had not removed his shields. He activated them now, moving to place himself between Aithne and his brother's guards. He would fight for what was right, yet this time, he did not want to be the one to attack his brother.
The male Jedi and Aithne sprang toward opposite corners of the throne room—going for the Czerka instead of the Wookiees in what was undeniable evidence of their wisdom. Carth Onasi, too, found cover behind the carved wooden throne in the center of the room and focused his fire upon the slavers. Rwookrrorro fought her own.
Zaalbar was amazed to see that, mad-claws or not, only two Wookiees stood with his brother against him and his father. He did not know whether it was Bacca's Blade, or the fact that Chuundar fought alongside the slavers, but with the humans fighting the humans, the Wookiee supporters of his brother were badly outnumbered. And though it had been years since Zaalbar had battled with enemies as tall and as strong as he was, he found too that he was more in practice battling than Chuundar's guards.
He sidestepped a powerful leg to the gut and brought his vibroblade in a sweeping arc, trying to block out how his father fared against his brother in the corner of his eye. He felt the tip of his blade slice into Wookiee flesh and hated that the slavers had brought their village to this barbarism.
When this one traitor fell at his feet, the others had ensured it was done. Zaalbar looked around and saw the only humans still standing his friends and the strange male Jedi, and the body of his brother lying at his father's feet.
He howled a soft lament, and his father echoed the sound. "We have done it," he said. "I am saddened that it had to come to this, but I couldn't let the lies and the oppression of our people continue. Zaalbar, my son, I am truly sorry. You have suffered a great shame. I was blind. I have no excuse."
"You have every excuse," Zaalbar corrected. "It was I who attacked my brother in a way forbidden to our people. I should have brought charges before the Holder of the Laws for investigation. Then I would have not have lost my honor, and perhaps it would not have come to this. We have both suffered for our failures, Father. I—I choose forgiveness. Will you?"
"Yes," his father agreed. "And your wisdom shames me."
/Freyyr,/ Aithne said, stepping forward. /What will you do about the slavers?/
"We will fight them," Zaalbar's father answered. Wookiees around the room raised a cheer at this declaration: war upon their enemies. "It will be difficult, but I swear they won't take another one of my people without bloodshed
"I'll send quick-climbers to other villages and try to rally a defense," he continued, pacing as he thought. "We must guard against this ever happening again. You three will be the last outsiders welcome here for a very long time. This is a change for the better, I think."
Aithne turned her face to Zaalbar then. She looked uncertain, hesitant. /Zaalbar, what will you do?/ she asked. /I'll let you off your lifedebt if you want. I'm sure all of us will understand if you want to stay and help your people./
Zaalbar looked over at his father, at the other Wookiees in the room. Not one of them looked at him with hatred now, he saw. Several of them growled invitations for him to stay. It would take time for tale of what had happened here to pass to the rest of the village, but the Czerka were hated in his village and all over Kashyyyk. News that his father had declared war upon them and reconciled with Zaalbar would go a long way. For the first time in twenty years, he could go home.
"Returning home has lifted a great weight from my mind," he said, "but it has been painful as well."
"You have a place by my side, Zaalbar," his father promised. "I would be honored if you would take it."
Zaalbar looked over at Aithne Moran, and he made his decision. For twenty years, he had lived away from his people and his village. For the last several, he had had a new sister, a new family, and though Mission was not like he was, she had been a better family to him than his own had ever been. Now the two of them were sworn to this Jedi: a woman of honor and good intentions, who cared for them with zeal, kindness, and wisdom, and whose assignment could prove the salvation of the galaxy. "I can't," he told his father. "Not yet. I'm just getting used to being free . . . and not just from the slavers. And I have a lifedebt. Now that my life is truly my own again, honoring that agreement is all the more important."
Freyyr gave him a Wookiee smile. "Listen to my son!" he cried. "His insight humbles me. Take that good judgment with you, and all the planets will come to revere Wookiee wisdom!"
It would be a better road to spreading Wookiee wisdom through the stars, Zaalbar thought: fighting side by side with Aithne Moran instead of building an empire founded on slavery from Rwookrrorro.
/We can't stay to do more against Czerka,/ Aithne admitted to Zaalbar's father. /Our mission will take us elsewhere. But if I could contact our companions back on our ship, and the three of us and Zaalbar could rest here for the night?/
"By all means," Freyyr agreed, "rest here for the night. You will be an honored guest in my household."
A young Wookiee led them all away, back to the home Zaalbar had grown up in. They were offered the services of a groomer, so Zaalbar and Aithne Moran could purify themselves from the gore of battle. Zaalbar did not know why Aithne needed help, as her lightsabers kept her foes from bleeding on her. He did not know where she had found her second lightsaber—a blade that shone white in her off-hand, while she wielded the original green in her right. He determined to ask her the next time they were alone.
He was introduced to Jolee Bindo, the Jedi he had noticed before, a man who had, it seemed, been living in the Shadowlands perhaps even longer than Zaalbar had been exiled from home. He would be leaving in their company and would help Aithne Moran as well, moving forward. Zaalbar knew the human must be a powerful warrior, to have survived in the Shadowlands so long alone, and he was also an elder, and so must be wise, in the way of humans.
They feasted on the meat and fruits of Zaalbar's homeland and bedded down Wookiee hammocks for the night. As the others dropped off to sleep, Zaalbar lay awake. Outside the windows of his home, he could hear the village singing: the funeral song of his brother Chuundar.