Several cold minutes passed before he
was able to think about freeing himself.
Luke's mind was numb, but once he had control of the saber, he was able
to direct it to slice cleanly through the rawhide that bound his wrists and
feet. Moments later he wielded it carefully, performing a similar
operation on the unconscious ice-woman. Once freed, Luke gathered Khr’shaia's cold form against
his, seeking to warm it. He
regretted he had no extra clothing to gallantly wrap about her, but regretted
even more the loss of her mysterious ‘Protector’.
Obviously, it guarded them no longer.
Perhaps she had to be conscious to employ it.
Shivering violently, he sought out the brilliant insect that hovered near
the head of its hive.
“N-Now w-what?”
The leader separated from the other
bugs to hang before him, a blue diamond glittering amidst a canopy of living
stars. “Are
you prepared to die?”
Luke frowned.
He had only just begun to believe they might live and now the creature
wanted to know if he was prepared for death?
He shivered again as what little hope he had mustered drained away in
defeat. “If I must.
B-But why….?”
“It
is the only way you can live.”
The lightsaber murmured in the snow
beside him. Above, the newly risen
moon shone hard and cold. He
brushed a lock of ebon hair away from the gash on the Khr’shaia’s face and
sighed as exhaustion tickled the edge of his perceptions.
“I’m…I’m sorry. I
don’t understand.”
The creature alighted on the woman’s
gun-metal grey shoulder and projected gently, “When
first we touched you, did you feel the cold?”
Luke remembered the shared warmth.
“No,” he said,
“Close
proximity to the fire that flows in our veins will temporarily elevate your
body’s temperature, but our venom can empower you so that you will be able to
carry your companion to shelter.” The
creature paused, and for the first time Luke realized he was speaking to a group
intelligence. “It
may also bring death -
or worse
- a living death from which there can
be no escape.”
Luke passed a cold hand over his eyes and started to reply, but the Khr’schlct stopped him.
“Do
not speak, unless it be to give your consent.
Time is short. Our purpose -
as given to us by the Inspirer
-
is to bring visions to his people. We
are used by the shamans to Dream-tread.
If they are worthy, it is of benefit.
If they are not, they do not return from the land of shadows.
It claims them. Though they
do not die, death it is still. You are strong in the Inspirer, still…”
The names were different, but suddenly
Luke understood the Force and the Inspirer
were one. Khr’shaia was a fellow
Jedi, the weapon she carried a variation of the lightsaber. She had brought him here for reasons as yet unclear, but had
been thwarted in her purpose by his lack of memory.
He now recalled Hoth, though he was sure he had left it behind long
before. Still, it mattered little.
He was here now and he couldn’t turn his back on her, no matter how
underhanded her methods.
“What d-do I have to do?”
The sapphire bugs circled his blond
head. “You
understand the risk?” There
was warning in its tone - and fear for him.
“If I refuse to help, then I freeze
and die for nothing. If I agree, I
may still die, but at least I tried.”
Black eyes fixed his and he felt the
creature’s approval. Suddenly,
the other Khr’schlcts moved to form a loose circle about him, humming softly
as their spokesman descended to his benumbed foot.
“I will puncture the skin here,
farthest from your heart. That
way you may have enough time to reach the cavern beyond the ice shelf”
-
as it spoke a vision formed in Luke’s mind and he knew he could find the
cave -“before the madness begins.
Do not hesitate or all will be lost.”
The young Jedi squared his shaking
shoulders and assured the intelligent insect, “I won’t.
Now, when will you - "
Before the words could clear his
trembling lips, Luke felt a sharp prick near his ankle bone.
Curiously, no visions exploded, no brilliant lights flashed through his
head. Instead a steady warmth
coursed through his veins like the aftermath of a slug of Corellian ale, rousing
his sluggish heart. Renewed
strength and vigor poured through him and he easily lifted the still form of his
companion. Tossing her across his
shoulders, Luke struck out for the cavern, following the mental map the kindly
Khr’schlct had drawn him.
He turned back once to thank the
shimmering creature and its sisters and brothers, but they had already taken to
the cold night air, winging their way back toward the Eye
of the Inspirer and the rough stone altar they called home.
###
Somehow, hours later, they made it to the cave. Luke’s
head was throbbing and his senses reeling by the time he lay the recently
awakened Khr’shaia on the cold stone floor.
He knelt beside her, gasping for breath, feeling a fiery madness flicker
at the edge of his senses. The
small cave was adequately lit by a natural skylight that opened to the risen
moon, but he could only see the dark shadows that inhabited its
heart…tenebrous shadows that
seemed to grow ever more substantial as they closed about him whispering his
name.
“Luke,
Luke…come
with me…. It is your
-”
“Luke?
Luke, can you hear me?”
He raised his forehead from the cooling
stones and felt sweat slide from the darkened ends of his blond hair down
his cheeks. A woman was speaking.
He looked at her. She had
dark hair… Shouldn’t it have
been in braids…?
“Leia?”
“No,” the woman answered, her voice
tight with concern. Or was it fear?
“It is Khr’shaia. Luke, why ever did you bring me here?”
He lifted his head to meet her gaze,
trying valiantly to ignore the bright flames that almost blinded him.
Flames that sprang from the Khr'schlcts venom.
“You,” he stopped to correct himself, “we were freezing. It’s
warm here. Now, at least,
you won’t die.” He
closed his eyes but the fire would not be quenched.
The woman wasn’t listening.
She shut her eyes and then a moment later opened them wide.
Rising, she began to pace about the minimal space like a caged Womprat. “There are things worse than death, Luke, much worse.
If she
should come….”
He shuddered as exquisite pain wracked
his aching form. The dark shadows
watched, patiently, expectantly. If
he surrendered and fell unconscious, they would have him.
To delay the inevitable, Luke forced himself to speak, asking, “She?
Who is she?”
“Ahl’var, my teacher. Oh, Luke, you don’t know…”
Khr’shaia paused as she looked at him for the first time, really looked, and saw how
ill he was. His face was flushed
and a fine red rash covered the exposed areas of his pale skin.
Remorseful, she fell to her knees beside him and gently laid her hand on
his arm. Seconds later she pulled
away as though singed. “By
the Inspirer, Luke, what is wrong?”
He opened his mouth to speak but a
spasm rocked his thin frame and he fell back to the cave floor with a short
groan. Khr’shaia ran her hands
efficiently along his body, seeking the source of this sudden sickness, and
gasped when she saw the tell-tale bite branded into his tender swollen flesh. Her hand flew to her mouth and she pulled back, horrified.
At first she could find no words, but then managed to choke out,
“L-Luke, why?” When he failed
to respond, Khr’shaia shook him and shouted, as tears streamed from her
pitch-black eyes, “Luke, you’re going to die!”
Blue eyes opened, but his vision
looked far beyond her, and in them he knew she saw
- if not surrender - than acquiescence at the least.
“It was my choice,” he answered softly, shuddering again as a strong
wave of fire passed through him. “Whatever
it was you brought me here for, I couldn’t just let you die before… we…
had…. Before I
had….” He coughed spasmodically and pitched to the side.
Then his form went rigid. Moments
later he lay motionless, free at least of
the physical pain his decision had engendered.
Silence reigned for a moment, and then
Luke heard a voice cool as the Hothan night speak from the cavern’s entrance.
“So this
is your champion?” it derided.
Khr’shaia slowly raised her head and
turned to meet the contemptuous stare. Luke’s
nightmare was no worse than her own. His
benefactress stood and greeted the one who had betrayed her.
“Mother,” she said.
And
then Luke knew no more.
###
When he awoke, Luke recognized the
landscape of his dreams.
He was once again in the lightless
cave, the one he in which he had first awakened.
He could see the serrated maw
of stalactites and stalagmites, and recognized the nebulous shadow that flitted
from one dark recess to another. He
felt for the lightsaber at his waist but his hand came away empty. Startled, he looked down only to find he was straddling his
own insentient form and the solid, tangible Jedi weapon was firmly attached to
the belt at his body's waist. Objectively,
he studied the inanimate shell as though it belonged to another.
Its pale skin was chalky and peppered with a nettled rash.
The once bright blond hair was matted and dull, and lay in thick brown
clumps against a forehead covered by a fine sheen of perspiration.
It looked like a corpse.
Fascinated, Luke bent to touch the
scarred face, but stopped in mid-gesture, inexorably
drawn by the drama unfolding not two meters away from him.
Two women, alike enough to be sisters if not twins, faced each other,
radiating power. The one he knew to
be Khr’shaia. The other….
Instinctively he knew she was much the same, but infinitely older and far more dangerous.
The newcomer stood illumined by a single beam of moonlight that filtered
through the skylight overhead, her silvered hair glinting in the ghostly light.
Her face was fine boned and regal, her manner suggestive of breeding and
easy power. A diaphanous gown
floated on a phantom breeze, scintillating so
that she appeared to hover rather than to rest on the slate-grey floor.
Khr’shaia faced her, feet planted
firmly, head held high. But he
could see her soul was shaking. Momentarily
she gathered herself to speak, wine-red lips parting to utter the word - not as
an endearment, but merely in recognition of an unavoidable blood-tie.
“Mother.”
Before Luke could react to that
revelation, the other woman moved, soft fabric whispering as she drew closer.
He shivered as he watched the army of black shapes that accompanied her,
dark black shapes of souls called and lost.
“Little one,” the woman said, her own dark lips barely moving,
“what it is brings you back to me?”
Khr’shaia hesitated and then turned
to look longingly at the still form of the human who had foolishly been her
hope. The one Luke now knew she had
planned to use. She had hoped he
would be strong enough to defeat this monster who had given her life.
Khr’shaia sighed and then returned disconsolate eyes on the other
woman’s proud face. “You have
named it. You did so, years ago,
before ever I left this place.”
The woman drew closer so her breath
stirred the fine hairs on Khr’shaia’s forehead.
Her black eyes shone like polished onyx. “It is your destiny…”
Luke stepped away from the solid form
that was his anchor, feeling the slender chord that stretched between them grow
narrow and taut. He reached out to
touch Khr’shaia and his hand passed straight through the ebon swells of her
hair and her broad shoulders, startling him.
Unnerved, he examined his own hands and then glanced up toward the
ominous figure that confronted his companion only to find the dark woman was
watching him.
Deep-blue flames kindled in the
fathomless depths of Khr’shaia's mother's eyes and she raised her head until
she looked straight at him. When
she had his attention, she repeated her prophecy.
“It is your
destiny.”
Luke's phantom mouth fell open and he
screamed, “No!”,
but the woman only laughed, and the sound of her laughter battered him like the
Force-driven machinery Vader had tossed at him on Bespin.
It struck him and twisted him around until he was spiraling out of
control, and as it did images of his former life flashed past as though he were
traveling at light-speed. Dark and
light, past and future broke apart and coalesced until all of the threads of his
life were held in one black-gloved hand that was clenched and raised above him
as he huddled, miserable, clinging frantically to the fragile gantry that
bisected the open center of the cloud city of Bespin.
Luke huddled there, terrified, listening
to words he could not believe, could not accept, and yet had known - had always known
-
were true.
“I
am your father.
Join me and together we can end this bloody conflict. You
can defeat the Emperor…he has foreseen
it.”
And this time, broken, envenomed,
defeated, his answer was yes. He reached out
and clasped the proffered hand and stared into the jaded eyes behind the mask.
They were his own. He had not failed the test on murky Dagobah…. Yoda had
wished him to remain blind to his inheritance.
Ben had hidden it from him. It
had all been lies. He had been lied
to. Used.
Betrayed.
Manipulated.
Anger grew in Luke, anger such as he
had never known, overwhelming any remembrance of the love he had had for the old
hermit who had discovered him or the other one who had begun his training.
They had simply wanted to further their own ends with no thought of his
calling, his destiny. The hand that gripped his now was flesh of his flesh, blood
of his blood, and that kinship awakened in him a realm of possibilities.
The future opened before him, a future of shared vision in which he and
Vader ruled justly together as father and son, meting out justice; rewarding
those who obeyed and destroying any who challenged the new order of the galaxy.
Luke felt the seductive power of the dark
side pour through the link and shifted to add the strength of
his other hand to the union. But
that hand was gone. Instead a
charred stump stood in its place, and as he stared at the truncated limb, he
lost his balance and teetered on the edge of the metal catwalk.
Vader stared at him,
seemingly expressionless behind the protection of his black mask.
Fury filled him. This man,
this creature,
had taken it from him and taken as well his fragile hold on sanity.
Suddenly all of the raw power that was his within the Force blasted out
in rage and despair, and the formidable form of the last Dark Lord of the Sith
shriveled until it was nothing more than an empty shell, a dry husk that lay
smoking on the silver-grey grating.
Luke stood, his arms flung wide and opened himself to the vast army of
black shadows that bore witness to the event and waited for them to claim him as
one of their own. Sweetly seductive, they promised power if he would only
embrace them of his own free will. Thus
empowered, he would be able to destroy the Emperor and force the
galaxy to accept his rule. Palpatine
had foreseen it. Vader had desired
it. Luke stared at the black
shadows that danced about him and felt the intensity of their combined glee
raise the hair on his head, and then he noticed
- within the dark teeming ranks - one small shining face.
The face of a young woman, upturned, streaked with tears.
“It is my destiny,” Khr’shaia
whispered, bowing to the foreboding shape that towered over her, “blood of
your blood, flesh of your flesh. I
am yours.”
And suddenly from somewhere deep inside
a quiet voice whispered forgotten words, stirring a powerful force within the
young man’s soul and Luke gasped, as though tasting fresh air after hours
submerged. He shook his head and
opened his eyes, and saw that the black shadows which surrounded him were only
that - pale and powerless phantoms, raging for their own lack of conscience,
seeking to drown the light of one more soul.
Without warning, he laughed, and the sound of that laughter drove the
demons away. They scattered as he
awakened and fell back into the shadows, until nothing remained but his astral
self and the silver-grey woman. Khr’shaia
met his eyes and he smiled, wiping away tears with the back of his hand.
Self-conscious, he spoke only one word, “Why?”
She approached him.
He could see her clearly now and she was older, her hair streaked with
silver and her eyes weary and world-wise. She
was truly the mirror-image of the dark woman she had knelt before.
Ahl’var, her teacher, had vanished with the other demons she had
conjured. Khr’shaia faced him and
laid a cool hand alongside his cheek. “Now
do you understand?”
He touched her hand with his own and
was amazed he could feel it. He
glanced to the side and saw that his physical form lay precisely where it had
been before.
“It is true, you dream still.
I had not meant it to be this way. You
are Dream-treading.” She paused
and held his gaze with her dark eyes. “It may yet prove fatal.”
Luke shook his head, a small smile
touching his lips. “No, I don’t
think so. I don’t think my ‘destiny’ is
to die here.”
She pulled her hand away and then
stepped back, shaking her dark locks. Her
eyes were narrowed, and about their edges, fine willowy lines danced.
“Still, if you die here,” she indicated the cave where his prone form
lay, “you will die. This is real.”
He nodded his understanding and then
shifted to see her better. She was
beautiful, but sad. “You
haven’t answered my question. Why
did you do this?”
Khr’shaia drew a breath and then
released it, meeting his bright gaze. “Many
years ago - thousands of your years - what you have witnessed here actually took
place. My mother was a powerful
Jevda - or
Jedi
- as you say. I was
her apprentice, but as I grew more powerful she became filled with jealousy and
rage. Instead of embracing me as
her successor, she drew closer to the dark side, gathering more and more power
until I became so frightened, I ran away.”
She hugged herself and crossed to stare at Luke’s pale figure, seeing
another. “I fled to the town and
chose to live there, knowing she would finally follow and finding me, destroy
me. But that was not her plan.
Nothing so simple would satisfy her dark wrath.
Instead she sent her evil
emissaries and told them to twist with fear the lives of any I had touched. To destroy any who had the smallest trace of
the Inspirer’s touch….”
Luke whispered, “Any who might have
been able to wield the Force as a weapon against her…
She left you alone.”
“Yes.
She did not want me destroyed, but cowed, defeated, without hope or
companions. She tortured and killed
the man I loved before my very eyes, finally driving me from my adopted home and
back to her.” Khr’shaia met his
eyes and breathed softly, “I succumbed long ago.”
“So you never really needed my
help?”
She smiled ruefully. “No, you needed mine. Do
you not remember this cave?”
Luke glanced about and shrugged, but
even as he did, it suddenly fell into place.
“This is the cave on Hoth! The
one where the ice creature dragged me.”
“Yes.”
She gestured to the moon-washed walls and the jagged ceiling overhead.
“That and my tomb.”
“Your what?”
Luke started. “What do you
mean?”
“This is where she taught me.
This was my home. This is where my corporeal form is buried.”
Her dark eyes misted and she fell silent.
“But how did it become your tomb?”
“I believed her lies.” She faced him again and spoke directly, “I believed this to
be my destiny, that I would become an agent of evil, that I must surrender to
the dark as she did…because she did. Finally
one day I challenged her and with that dark power which was my inheritance…destroyed her.”
Luke winced.
He knew what was coming.
“Even as she died, so did I.
And when - after decades of evil - my
physical form died as well, I took the coward’s way.
I could not embrace the black hand that held me fast and so I fled again. I placed my consciousness within these walls, within the very
heart of this cave."
“And so when the creature brought me
here- "
“I became aware of you.
And after you left, your thoughts lingered, your goodness….
I had not felt such strength in eons and I could not forget you….”
Khr’shaia fell silent as though embarrassed.
“I had been alone a very long time.
And then, when I sensed you were close to death and faced with the very same choice that damned
me - ”
“You brought me here.” He could not imagine the power that would have taken, more
than Obi Wan had possessed, more than Yoda.
Perhaps a power as strong as the Emperor himself.
He started to question her, but found that suddenly he could no longer
put words together. Without warning, he swayed and the world he inhabited became
cloudy, as though he looked at it from the bottom of a murky pond.
Khr’shaia moved to his side to steady him.
He had realized she too must have traveled here in spirit form, else,
they could not have touched.
She replied.
“I brought you here in one sense, to the land you walked in that
form.” She pointed to his pale
body where it lay bathed in moonlight.. “Your
corporeal self sleeps still, far away. Only
that which belongs to the Inspirer treads
this dream world. You must return
now and be reunited with it soon, or it will be too late.”
Khr’shaia held his gaze, her own suddenly intense.
“But now, I must ask you once again, do
you understand?”
Luke nodded. “Yes.
Vader’s sins are his own. It
is not my ‘destiny’ that matters,
but the choices I make.”
She smiled brightly, her weary face lit
by a glow from deep within. “Yes.
Yes. That is it.
Then my
choice, though in error, will not have been in vain. You will not walk the path I walked. You light will not be extinguished as was mine.”
Luke stumbled again and she took his
arm and guided him to where his still form lay waiting.
He blinked back tears and held onto her as she tried to move away.
“Is there nothing …nothing I can do for you?”
She kissed him lightly and stepped
away. “My burden is eased.
That is enough. Now go.”
With that Khr’shaia was gone.
Luke moaned as pain began to seep into his consciousness, burning along the
edges of his phantom limbs. Seconds
later he opened his eyes and found he was lying on the cave floor, cold and
stiff. Bracing himself with his one
good hand, he sat up only to find that the dark cave on Hoth had been replaced
by the homely chamber of the Eye of the
Inspirer. The small childlike
creature floated still within its clear bubble, the waves of the Force gently
stirring its snow-white hair. Luke
stood and instantly recognized that even though the land he walked was that of
the spirits, still this chamber, this
being, this meeting were as real as anything he had ever known.
The
Eye stirred and looked at him through
closed eyes. “You are free to go, Luke Skywalker.”
Luke crossed to the globe and lay his
hands upon its warm living surface. “It
was you all along, wasn’t it?”, he asked, feeling the power that radiated
from the tiny creature within. “You
brought me here. Khr’shaia
wasn’t powerful enough, not even the Palpatine could have….
Who
are you?”
The bright being’s eyes opened and
Luke had to turn away, so intense was the light that shone from them.
“I am
the Force. I am life and energy. I
am all that binds and surrounds you, all that you are.
And you are mine, Luke Skywalker.
Not Vader’s, not the Emperor’s, not your own.
“You
are mine.”
Luke forced himself to look into the
face of the light, and when he did, he found it was neither harsh nor
terrifying, but warm and welcoming. Its
healing energies strengthened him and bore him up and away from the dark pit
Vader’s words had plunged him into.
“You
are the son of Anakin Skywalker, one of my finest knights. That
is your heritage. Therein
lies your
destiny.”
The young man felt the words surround
him and invade him, cleansing his soul. He
drew a deep breath and then smiled, feeling much lighter and stronger.
He nodded, “Yes. My destiny.”
“Now,
child, you must return. Your body
weakens and it will not last long without your mind to bind the one to the
other. Go back.
Heed what you have learned....”
Luke
felt the presence of the Eye pull
away. As
he fell into the darkness that lay without the dream universe, he managed to
ask, “But what of Khr’shaia? What
will become of her?”
The voice receded but he heard its
answer clear enough. “Her penance has been paid. She
is with me.”
The woman’s husky voice spoke softly
and her phantom hand brushed Luke's cheek one last time.
“And with you.”
###
Leia sighed and laid her hand upon
Luke’s still chest. The readings
had remained the same for days, nearly flat-lined.
All that kept the young Jedi alive was the machine to which his
battered form was attached. Earlier
that morning the medical droid, Two-OneBee, had suggested the only ‘humane’
thing to do was to disconnect
him - to let him go. Leia smiled
ruefully as she recalled his mechanical sadness. The droid understood all too well the finality of his
suggestion - perhaps only as an artificial life-form could. Disconnection. Death.
It was all the same. There
was no coming back.
Threepio and Artoo-Detoo had listened
to the prognosis and since that time had kept a silent watch, offering their
mute support as she prepared to end the life of one of the two men who meant the
most to her in all of the known galaxies. The
other one, with his dark hair and smiling eyes, was lost, stolen from before her
very eyes, but she still had hope she would be able to find and rescue him.
This one…. Well, the truth
was before her. she
couldn’t pretend any longer, and yet, to admit the loss of this one would be
like opening a wound in her soul that would never heal.
Somehow Leia knew if Luke
died, a part of her would die as well.
“Princess Leia, if I might make a
suggestion,” Threepio, the golden protocol droid suggested from somewhere near
her elbow, “Artoo and I can perform this task.
You need not -”
“No!”
she shouted, unexpectedly loud, then repeated more softly, “No.
If it is to be done, it will be by my hand.”
Leia gathered her courage and reached for the red switch on the
life-sustain unit, toggling it with a sigh.
“Still, somehow, I never thought Luke would go like this - ”
A shrill whistle sounded from
Threepio’s barrel-like companion and Leia’s hand jerked back, flipping the
switch the other way. Her hand went
to her chest and she took a deep calming breath.
“Artoo, whatever do you mean doing that right now?
I…”
“Mistress!” Threepio was shouting as well, “Mistress Leia!”
Leia pivoted and saw the lines on the
monitor suddenly soar like an X-Wing in flight.
Luke’s motionless chest heaved
once and then fell still again.
“What?”
Leia held her breath, not daring to hope,. Then, as she watched,
Luke's chest rose again. Soon his
breathing was regular; his vital signs stabilized somewhere slightly below
normal. Luke's pale eyelids
fluttered and even paler lips parted to
emit a low moan.
Grabbing his remaining hand Leia drew
it close to her. “Luke”, she
whispered fervently, “Luke, can you hear me?”
His blue eyes opened and slowly focused
on her. A moment later he smiled
weakly.
“Luke,” she repeated, tears welling
in her dark brown eyes, “I thought you were lost.”
His head shifted and he turned to stare
- not at her, but past her - as though addressing something or someone
Leia could not see.
Then he whispered.
“Never again.”
- end -