“So soon,” Qui-Gon murmured. Something nagged at him, an instinct telling him he had overlooked something.
Jemba’s anger. The soft tread of animals. At solid cliff that moved. A yellow haze…
But no animals lived on the island, only draigons. The crew had investigated for predators shortly after they’d landed. And the haze hadn’t been in front of his eyes. A cave in the cliff itself had been glowing with a faint yellow light.
Realization sparked within him. “Tell the Arconans no to be afraid,” he told Clat’Ha crisply. “I think I know where the dactyl is. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’ll come with you,” Clat’Ha offered instantly. “Or we could round up some help —“
Qui-Gon considered this. No doubt the dactyl would be guarded. But with hungry draigons hunting in the morning skies, too many people might attract their attention. Not to mention that Jemba would be on the watch. But one man dressed in dark robes, traveling alone…
“I’m sorry, Clat’Ha,” he said. “I know you will hate what I’m about to ask you to do.”
“I’ll do anything,” Clat’Ha declared fiercely. “We have to find that dactyl!”
“No, you don’t understand,” Qui-Gon said. “I’m asking you to wait.”
Grelb the Hutt was good at following orders, especially when he knew that Jemba might eat his tail if he didn’t. He sat on the rock midway up the cliffside, his blaster rifle at the ready. From here he had a good view of the ship. Jemba had sent him here for two reasons — to protect the miners and the Arconans as they evacuated the ship, and to make sure that no one climbed to reach the high caves.
Not that Jemba cared about the Arconans. But now they were his property. He was protecting an investment.
So far, the draigons that hovered up so high in the air and that perched on craggy rocks in the hills had not spotted the Hutts and Arconans and Whiphids. The early morning mist shrouded them from view. Yet Grelb kept careful watch, prepared to shoot any draigon that swooped from the sky — or any Arconan that gave him trouble.
Last night, darkness had provided a cover for the hard climb upward into the cliffs with the dactyl. Jemba had ordered the Whiphids to do most of the work. Their feet were heavily padded, and would make no sounds while they loaded the dactyl onto packs and snuck away from the ship. No one had seen them, Grelb was sure. The rest of the miners on the ship had been busy licking their wounds after the pirate fight, and the Arconans were to afraid to stick their noses out of their cabins.
It had a setback when the crew had ordered everyone off the ship and into the caves. Even Jemba had been worried that someone would stumble upon the cache of dactyl. It was lucky that they had forced the Whiphids to climb so high.
The mist was starting to break up, but gray clouds were rolling in from the west. The air smelled of salt and distant lightning. Grelb worried that the lightning would drive more draigons to ground here on the island.
As the Arconans emptied from the huge dark ship, one man caught Grelb’s eye: the Jedi Knight, Qui-Gon Jinn. He wore a cloak and hood, but Grelb instantly recognized him by his size and grace. Qui-Gon walked swiftly past the Arconans as though anxious to reach the caves. Yet it was not like him to hurry to safety.
Grelb fished a pair of macrobinoculars from his pocket and trained them on the Jedi. Qui-Gon climbed the hill quickly, without tiring. But instead of ducking into the first cave where the Arconans had already gathered, he continued to climb, inching along a narrow ledge in order to reach the side of the mountain without being see.
Grelb would have gladly slithered after the Jedi and shot him, but he dared not do so without Jemba’s permission. He reached down to his comm unit and pushed a button. In seconds Jemba answered.
“The Jedi Knight is heading up the mountain,” Grelb said.
“Where is he going?” Jemba barked. He sounded frightened, and for good reason.
“I don’t know. But I don’t like it,” Grelb answered.
Jemba hesitated only a moment. “Take some reinforcements with you, and see to it that he doesn’t return.”
Si Treemba looked ill. The healthy greenish tone of his skin was fading to grey, and his small scales were beginning to flake off. Qui-Gon had been gone for hours now.
When Clat’Ha had told him that Qui-Gon had gone in search of the dactyl, frustration had filled Obi-Wan. He accepted that he could not be the Jedi’s Padawan, but couldn’t Qui-Gon ask him for help, just once?
Of course he had not. Of course he had gone alone.
In the dark cave, Obi-Wan studied his friend with a frown. The Hutts and Whiphids had taken the only lights into a larger cavern, so that only reflected light had worked its way in.
The Arconans had settled into the back of the highest cavern — and what strange caverns they were. Each cave measured four meters wide at its narrowest point, and ten meters tall. Perhaps a dozen passages led to the surface. But tunnels opened wide into huge hollows in many places. Claw marks on the floors showed that an animal had dug them, yet the Arconans found nothing in the lair.
The Offworlders guarded the entrance to make certain no one fled. Stalactites hung overhead like glittering spears, and there was nothing to sit on but broken stones. In the dank shadows, the eyes of the Arconans glowed faintly.
Si Treemba was humming in Arconan. Others nearby did the same. Obi-Wan leaned closer to his friend.
“What are you humming?” he asked softly.
“We sing a song of thanksgiving,” Si Treemba said. He Translated for Obi-wan.
“The sun in finally hidden, and here our world is black. In this cave we have the stones And our brothers at our back.
“Outside the storms may threaten But here the day is calm. We’ll cleave to earth like flesh to bone. With out brothers we belong.”
It seemed a sad song to Obi-Wan. But he was not an Arconan. He was not used to making a cave his home. Perhaps to Si Treemba, the song sounded more joyous.
The Arconans sounded as if they were resigned to their deaths. He could not understand such resignation. The urge to act, to fight, was becoming stronger by the minute. Obi-Wan struggled against the feeling. He’d he been warned about his impatience again and again? This was his test. He must live by the Jedi Code and wait, even while his friend faded. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done. But he trusted Qui-Gon.
“Promise me,” Obi-Wan said quietly to Si Treemba, “that you won’t let yourself die here.”
“We won’t let ourselves die,” Si Treemba promised.
“Do you mean it? You’ll hold on until Qui-Gon comes back?” Obi-Wan asked urgently.
“We will try to live, Obi-Wan,” Si Treemba promised. “But the dactyl must come soon.”
Chapter 19
Cautiously, Qui-Gon Jinn inched up a ledge that no Humans should have been able to climb. In a pouring rain, he grasped small crevices with his fingers and toes, barely holding on.
He knew that he had to hurry. He had spent extra time approaching from the side of the mountain, knowing he would be too east to spot if he climbed directly up. But at last he’d come to a point where he had to risk exposure. From now on, his path was straight up.
At the moment, he was more concerned about the draigons than the Hutts. The creatures were active now. Many had landed on crags above, as if to wait out the storm. He remained in the shadows, moving beneath rocks, afraid he might be spotted. Sometimes, he had to wait painful minutes until some draigon would turn its scaly silver head.
Patience, he told himself over and over again. We must have patience. That was the unwritten part of the Jedi Code. Yet it was hard to be patient when so many lives hung in the balance.
His fingers were chafed and bleeding. Nearby, lightning split the sky and thunder snarled. The sky was dark and lowering. Wind gusted and whistled among the stones.
He felt terribly exposed. He was a big man, a large target for the draigons. A flash of lightning could expose his position — or even knock
him to his death.
He stopped for a long moment, panting. Rain poured down his forehead and made his clothes feel heavy. He felt half-frozen, and still weak from the wounds the pirate had dealt. He glanced toward the ocean. Not far off, a gleaming draigon dropped like a blaster bolt toward the sea, its wings folded.
It plunged into the pounding surf, then flapped its wings. As it rose from the white-capped waves, a huge glittering fish wriggled in its mouth.
Thankfully, the draigon had not seen him. Or if it had, it did not care for human flesh. Perhaps the draigons had never seen animals on land, and did not think to hunt there.
Qui-Gon did not dare looked down. Up above him a few hundred meters, he could see a faint mist vented from a crevice blowing wildly in the wind. It would take the sharp eye of someone who knew what they were looking for, but the mist was definitely tinted with yellow.
The dactyl would be there.
The travel was hard. There were no trails. Not a rock on this planet had ever been crushed underfoot. If he stepped on a rock, it was likely to twist beneath him. Even if it didn’t turn, they felt sharp and painful beneath his feet. The only plants he found were small gray lichens that crusted over everything. When they were dry, walking on them was like walking on carpet. But once the morning rains began to fall, the lichens turned slick.
Though he could feel the Force guiding him to the dactyl, it still seemed an almost impossible task.
Lightning sizzled through the air. Thunder shook the stone beneath his fingertips. Wind gusted at his back. Qui-Gon clung to the face of the rock wall. His shoulder throbbed.
Not much farther, he told himself.
There was a flash just above his head. Splinters of rock stung his cheek.
For half a moment, he thought that a lightning bolt had nearly pierced him. But he realized that it was too small.
A blaster. Someone had shot at him!
Qui-Gon craned his neck, and tried to look down. He spotted them immediately in the rocks below. It was difficult for a Hutt to hide. It was Grelb, Jemba’s errand boy. He slithered along, flanked by several Whiphids. They raised heavy blaster rifles and fired again. The Hutt laughed merrily.
Blaster bolts exploded all around Qui-Gon.
His lightsaber was useless. There was nowhere to hide, no way to fight.
Painfully, Qui-Gon struggled upward.
Grelb the Hutt chortled in delight. His plan had worked perfectly. He knew Qui-Gon would have to appear around the side of the mountain and make the last ascent straight up to the dactyl. All he had to do was find a position, and wait.
At first, he’d been afraid of the draigons, and he’d kept still, hoping to be mistaken for a rock. But gradually, Grelb had grown comfortable. The draigons were probably fish-eaters, nothing more.
He didn’t fear their teeth — but the rough stones of this world threatened to tear through even Grelb’s thick hide. The Hutt wanted nothing more that to slither carefully back to the ship.
But right now he had a job to do: kill the Jedi.
It was going to be a pleasure.
The Jedi was trapped on the cliff face above, squirming up toward the ledge where the dactyl was hidden. Qui-Gon had no blaster to shoot back with. He was a big target. It looked as if this would be an easy kill.
So Grelb told his cronies, “Take your time. Have some fun.”
His Whiphids whimpered in delight. They loved to torment helpless creatures. They kept up a steady barrage of fire, purposely missing the Jedi with every shot. They hit just close enough to try to terrify the Jedi.
Grelb chortled, “Look at him squirm, boys! Reminds me of that puffer I ate for dinner last night!”
But the truth was, the Jedi did not squirm. He didn’t cringe, or try to scramble away. His pace didn’t change at all. Slowly, methodically, he climbed the cliff face, even as rock splintered millimeters from his face.
The Whiphids grew angry. “Is he blind?” one asked in a complaining tone. “This is no fun at all.”
Grelb frowned. He did not want the Whiphids to complain. He needed their loyalty. “How about a bet?” he suggested. “See who can blow off his boot.”
“Excellent!” the first Whiphid cried. “Bet you five I can knock off his boot in one shot!”
“In one shot?” his companion hooted. And the bet was on.
To sweeten the deal, Grelb bet against the Whiphid at two-to-one odds. Eagerly, he watched the Jedi make his steady progress up the cliff. The two Whiphids who made the bet brought their guns to rest on their shoulders. He waited breathlessly for the first Whiphid to take his shot. Lightning flashed, thunder roared.
There was a blast of wind at Grelb’s back.
The Jedi had his right foot on a tiny ledge. He reached out for a handhold above. He was precariously balanced. One shot in the foot would probably bring him down.
“Shoot already!” Grelb shouted.
Behind him, there was a strange noise. Something like an urp.
Grelb turned to look at the Whiphid marksman, and there standing hugely at Grelb’s back was a draigon. It had landed so silently, he had not heard it.
It was the first he’d seen up close. The draigon had tiny silver scales over all of its body, and huge yellow eyes like those on a fish. It had no front legs, only a single huge claw on each wing. And its mouth had the strangest teeth — like enormous needles that arced down from its gums. The monster vaguely reminded him of an Ithorian razor shark.
The huge reptile had half of the Whiphid marksman in its mouth.
“Aaagh!” Grelb screamed as he slithered towards the nearest crevice.
The Whiphids all turned and began to fire at the draigon.
Qui-Gon pulled himself up the last three meters, then wedged himself into the small cave. There, he paused, panting for a long moment, clutching his sore right arm. The acrid scent of sulfur and ammonia assaulted him. He peered farther inside the cave. The dactyl crystals had been thrown on the smooth floor of the cave, and were giving off a dull yellowish glow.
Th blaster fire was coming fast as ever. The guns made a steady boom boom boom. But the shots were no longer directed at him. Instead, the Whiphids had hidden in the rocks, firing at draigons. The blaster fire attracted them by the score, and draigons roared in the sky, flocking down from the cliffs. Several of the huge beasts had collasped around the Whiphids, but others were wheeling from the skies in a feeding frenzy.
Qui-Gon looked down from the cliff, watching the struggle. He had traveled all morning without attracting the attention of a draigon. Now, by shooting their blasters, the stupid Whiphids were drawing them in droves.
Draigons screamed, a great shrieking cry, and dove out of the clouds on leathery silver wings. They soared over the stones and swiveled their heads. Teeth gleamed under the strobe of lightning flashes.
The Whiphids scattered and tried to hide beneath huge slabs of stone. One Whiphid roared in terror as a draigon dropped from the sky and plucked it from its hiding place.
Qui-Gon used the diversion to load the dactyl into the cloth sack he had brought. For several moments the Whiphids fought and screamed and died as dozens and dozens of the huge draigons plummeted toward them.
Suddenly, a great shadow blocked the light to the cave. A draigon shrieked, a cry so piercing tht the rock around qui-Gon trembled. He pressed himself against the side of the cave.
Outside the mouth of the fissure, the draigon clutched the rock with its wing talons. It let out the piercing cry again, and Qui-Gon knew it was no use.
He had been seen.
As draigon hurtled from the skies, Grelb slithered quietly away.
The huge hairy Whiphids danced among the rocks, shooting their blasters and bellowing war cries. They made quite a diversion.
Fortunately for Grelb, young Hutts — like certain kinds of worms and slugs — are adept at squeezing through tight holes and wedging themselves between rocks.
Thus Grelb moved quickly away from the huge Whiphids, and l
et them battle the draigons alone.
He was half-way down the mountain when he finally dared to stick his head up enough to gaze off toward the vast ocean. Even then, he held his heavy blaster rifle close to his chest. The tide had indeed risen and now lapped against the hull of the Monument. But it looked as if Jemba had fled the ship in vain. It would not be swamped today. Grelb felt relieved to know that he might still make it off this rock alive.
Behind him, on the mountain, the Whiphids were issuing fewer war cries, and had quit firing their blasters. Grelb should have shivered in terror to think what had happened to them.
The draigon’s shriek had alerted others from the flock. They vied for position as the first draigon wedged its long silver head into the cave opening. Lightning streaked through the sky behind it. Teeth longer than knives flashed near Qui-Gon’s face, and he could smell the scent of dead fish on the draigon’s breath.
Jedi Apprentice 1: The Rising Force (звёздные войны) Page 9