Allies

by Christie Golden

  “Well, I haven’t felt any tentacles yet,” Ben said, trying to shrug off his unease.

  “If you do, you know how to handle it,” said Luke, dropping a hand on Ben’s shoulder and giving it a good squeeze. He lay down on the bed next to the unconscious Dyon, and Ben inserted the IV quickly and almost casually.

  Luke knew now, as he had not known the first time he had Mind Walked, that this place had a counterpart in physical reality. All of the places he had visited did. He was on Abeloth’s world, and this, the Lake of Apparitions, could be visited awake, on foot, with a lightsaber in his hand, if he knew where to find it.

  On Sinkhole Station, his guides were being bent to Abeloth’s will, to take him to her, to keep him trapped in this place until his physical body perished. Only Ben’s decision to come after him, putting himself at great risk, had saved Luke. On this second spirit-voyage, he was again hardly among friends. But no one with whom he journeyed now wished Abeloth well.

  He had, as promised, instructed the Sith who had insisted on accompanying him on the techniques. As he expected, they grasped the concept quickly. He had warned them to expect a sense of elation, of euphoria, and to not trust it. He had advised them to have someone watching over them, to monitor their vital signs, and to be prepared to go in after them if things began to look dangerous. They had sniffed at his warnings as if he were a child telling them fire was hot, and said they were certain they could handle it. Still, they had all agreed to be hooked up to IVs and have someone monitoring them at all times.

  He had instructed them all to follow the crackling violet light that appeared as they “awoke,” for want of a better term, in Beyond Shadows, and had given them a very detailed description of the site at which they needed to appear.

  He was the first to arrive, no doubt because of his familiarity with the technique, and looked around at the Lake of Apparitions. He stood again on the shore in front of the narrow lake, bathed in blue sunlight. The surface was as still and dark as it had been the last time he had come here. On one shore was the granite face, on the other, the boulder-strewn meadow, with knee-high hummocks of moss and small streams winding their way between them.

  And ahead, at the far end of the Lake of Apparitions, was swirling silver mist. The Mists of Forgetfulness. This time, though, Luke saw no hovering female figure beckoning him onward.

  They appeared one by one. First was Taalon, lurching into existence as if stumbling, but then recovering quickly. A second later, Khai and Leeha Faal appeared. They looked around curiously.

  “What is this place?” Faal demanded.

  “My guide called it the Lake of Apparitions,” Luke said. “This end is known as the Mirror of Remembrance. If you want to get from one end to the other, you have to follow a tricky path or else you’ll fall into the Depths of Eternity.”

  Gavar Khai snorted. “Such pompous names,” he said.

  “I actually have to agree with you on that,” Luke said, “but that’s what I know them as.”

  “Apparitions,” said Khai slowly, looking into the water. “I see nothing.”

  Luke shrugged. “I don’t know how a lot of this works,” he said honestly. “I saw several people I recognized. Perhaps it is different for each individual.”

  Khai shot him a searching look. “Really? I’d be very interested to know the sort of people Master Skywalker saw.”

  “If I see them again, I’ll let you know,” Luke said.

  “Are they hostile?” Taalon asked.

  Luke felt a tug at his heart. “No,” he said. “No, no one I saw here was hostile.” Not even Jacen, not anymore. He shook off the remembrance, even as he was forced to acknowledge that he did hope that one beloved face, at least, would again rise to the surface. He thought of the comfort Mara had provided the last few days, coming to him in dreams, that comforting female presence aboard the Jade Shadow.

  Not even death could truly separate two so deeply bonded. Gently, he pushed thoughts of his late wife aside and focused on the present.

  “It was there that I saw Abeloth,” he said, pointing to the mists. “She was hovering there, wanting me to come to her. The Mists of Forgetfulness.”

  “You did not go to her then?” Khai asked.

  “I was heading in that direction. I received many warnings not to. Warnings I’m glad I heeded.”

  Taalon regarded the mists steadily. “I see nothing there now.”

  “No,” Luke agreed. “But simply because we do not see her doesn’t mean she isn’t there.”

  Faal said, “You wish to go to a place called the Mists of Forgetfulness?”

  “If there are answers, I believe they will lie there,” Luke said.

  “In the Mists of Forgetfulness?” Faal asked, slightly incredulous. “The answers might be there, but how will you remember the question?”

  Taalon shot her a look and Faal fell silent. “If you are certain, Master Skywalker, then let us go investigate.” He smiled coldly. “Since you’re familiar with this place, you may take the lead.”

  “Thanks,” Luke said dryly, although he would have insisted on leading regardless. He trusted the Sith not to jump him from the rear—not when he was the only one who knew how to get them there. “The path is close to the shore and is shallow. Do not go too far out into the Lake. I don’t know a lot about the Depths of Eternity, but I was informed that once you stumble into them, no one can pull you back. You’ll be lost. Forever. It could be a lie; it could be true. I personally don’t want to find out.” He looked at each of them in turn, making sure they appreciated the direness of the situation.

  “Now. Follow me, step where I step, and take your time to make sure your footing is secure.”

  He moved carefully into the cold water and moved toward the far end, testing each step carefully. At first the lake was utterly undisturbed by their passing. There were no splashes, not even ripples.

  And then they came forth.

  The faces of the dead began to emerge from the depths, floating upward but still lingering about a dozen centimeters below the surface, their eyes closed, their expressions tranquil. So many that Luke knew in life. He searched, but did not yet see the one face he had hoped to find. He was surprised at how bitter the disappointment was.

  The Sith were too disciplined to gasp, of course. But they could not quite suppress their shock in the Force. He heard names—whispered, called out in surprise or in joy.

  And the responses. Luke paused and turned back, listening to the conversations. He did not particularly want dead Sith imparting advice to the living, but on the other hand, he felt it was wrong to silence the communication. Such a chance was too rare to not be given, even to one’s enemy.

  He need not have worried. These were loved ones, not generals or military strategists. The slightly gurgling words were gentle and tender, farewells never made or vows of eternal love repeated one more time. He was uncomfortable, and it was clear the Sith, too, were torn between wanting these unlooked-for connections and maintaining their mystery and threat in Luke’s eyes.

  “These might be tricks,” said Taalon, but his voice sounded oh-so-slightly uncertain.

  “They might be,” Luke said. “But I didn’t find them to be.” He turned around and moved forward. “We should not linger.”

  On they went, step by step. This time, unlike the previous attempt Luke and Ben had made to reach the mists, they made progress. Luke honestly hadn’t expected this, but he felt hope rising within him. He didn’t know what awaited him inside the shifting gray tendrils of mist, but he was ready to find out. More than ready.

  He had not gotten this far the last time, and the path became trickier. He slowed his pace, stepping forward carefully—

  The rock gave way and he started to fall forward. A strong hand closed far too tightly on his upper arm, yanking him to safety.

  “Thank you,” he said to Gavar Khai. Their eyes met, and Khai nodded.

  “I would not lose our guide quite so soon,” Khai said. “
Besides … now the great Luke Skywalker owes the Khai family a debt.”

  “I would say rather that we are even now,” Luke said, disengaging his arm from the durasteel grip of the Sith Saber. “I spared your daughter.”

  Khai’s black brows drew together. “Only because you were tracking her,” he snarled. “Only—”

  “Khai!” snapped Taalon. “Later. We must find Abeloth before we settle scores.”

  Khai bridled, but fell silent. Luke turned to continue.

  At that moment there was a sharp cry. Luke whirled to see Leeha Faal on her hands and knees in the water, and he and the other two exhaled in relief. Even Faal smiled shakily.

  “I slipped,” she said, embarrassed, and started to get to her feet. “I thought for sure I—”

  The hand beneath the water that suddenly seized her wrist was pale purple. So, too, were the hands that shot out to grab her legs. She struggled, her eyes widening in surprise as her strong, slender body strained for the safety of the path.

  “High Lord!” Faal cried. She got one hand free and reached out to him imploringly, unable to hide her terror. The water did not splash or churn as she fought desperately against the imperfectly glimpsed specters in the inky water.

  “Leeha!” Taalon surged toward her. Gavar Khai snatched his arm just in time to prevent his commander from falling into the cold, black depths. “No, no, let me—”

  Leeha’s hand closed on a jutting rock and she tried to pull herself back to safety. But the dead things in the water would have her, and there was nothing living beings could do to stop it. Her hand slipped. She opened her mouth to shout. Water filled it, then closed over her perfect, purple face.

  Taalon, still held by Gavar Khai, reached into the water after Leeha. Khai grabbed that arm, too, and pulled him back. “It’s too late!” Khai shouted.

  And it was. Leeha Faal was already beyond their reach. Luke stared at the sight of her lithe form, still struggling, being borne inexorably downward into an eternal darkness.

  Aboard the Winged Dagger, Leeha Faal’s body spasmed. Her vitals spiked and zigzagged crazily and the monitor was beeping wildly.

  “What’s going on?” one of her attendants cried, attempting to hold the flailing Keshiri down and trying to read the monitor at the same time.

  “I don’t know—I—”

  Faal arched, every muscle in her body tight, and then went limp. The jagged lines that had indicated her brain activity suddenly subsided to a flatline, although her heart continued to beat and her lungs to draw breath.

  The two attendants stared at each other. Then one of them cleared her throat and pressed her comlink with steady fingers.

  “Sumar to Captain Syndor. There has been an incident with Commander Faal. All brain activity has ceased. You are once again the commander of the Winged Dagger. Congratulations, Commander.”

  “Thank you,” came Syndor’s voice. He made no attempt to hide his pleasure. “Terminate life support and report back to your stations. We will await orders from High Lord Taalon.”

  “What happened?” Taalon demanded. He jerked his arm free from Khai and turned his fury upon Luke. “What have they done to her?”

  “I don’t know,” Luke said.

  “Liar!” Taalon spat. He pointed at the dark surface of the lake, as calm as if a few seconds ago there had been no life or death struggle. “Who was that? You said the apparitions were harmless!”

  “I don’t know who it was,” Luke repeated, keeping his voice calm. “And I said that only the ones I encountered were harmless.” It seemed as though the Depths of Eternity were populated by one’s enemies. Sith though she was—and Luke knew of at least one despicable act she had committed—still Luke pitied her. He somehow intuited that her fate would be nothing as brief and merciful as drowning.

  Taalon had seemed unduly upset by Faal’s death, but now he was recovering. “Let us press on. The less time we spend here, the better I shall like it.”

  Luke couldn’t have agreed more. He turned to continue, then he stopped.

  It had been Mara who had warned him not to go to the mists.

  Forget her, she had urged him. She’s one of the old ones. Leave her alone … trust me.

  Mara …

  “What is it, Skywalker?” snapped Taalon. “I thought you said the answers were there, in the mists.”

  He hadn’t seen her, and he had been looking. He had thought, after sensing her so strongly on the ship, that she would be waiting for him. He again looked into the water. He saw many beings, but none he recognized.

  He had to talk to her. He trusted her, trusted her more than anyone he had ever known. She had insight now, insight that could help save him and Ben. Surely, she would give it.

  “Mara?” he said quietly, knowing that in this place she would hear even a whisper.

  At first, there was nothing. He did not repeat her name. She would either come, or not. And then, he saw her, a small shape in the water, floating up to him, her long red hair billowing about her like a cloud.

  Despite everything, Luke smiled. “Mara,” he said again. Her emerald eyes opened and she smiled.

  “Skywalker,” she said, her voice warm. “What are you doing here again?”

  Luke squatted down. It made no sense, she wasn’t physical, any more than he was—even less so—but he still wanted to be closer to her. “The woman in the mists,” he said. “She’s not there anymore. We’ve come for her, Mara. We’ve come to stop her.”

  Her red brows drew together in a frown. “I can tell who you’re keeping company with,” she said. “They reek of dark side energy.”

  He laughed softly. “That they do,” he said, looking back over his shoulder. They were paying close attention. “And I’m sure they’re highly complimented by that. But I’m comfortable in my choice, for now. It feels right, and so does going after Abeloth. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

  “About her? Other than to warn you again to stay away from her? No.” She shook her head, her hair swirling about her. “But since you’ve come back, I guess you’re not going to listen to me.” She softened the words with a gentle smile of resignation.

  “No. I have to do this. Too much is at stake. I had thought this would be the most logical place to look for her.”

  “Not if she doesn’t want to be found.”

  He nodded. “All right. Back to the old-fashioned way of tracking down an enemy.”

  “Sending in the Emperor’s Hand?”

  Luke actually laughed. “I do wish you were with me,” he said, not caring that the Sith heard the love in his voice. Let them. Love was a powerful thing. It had built and shattered empires, shaped the history of billions, and of two. He was glad of how deeply he had loved, and did love.

  “But then again, you have been,” he amended. “It’s meant so much to me. To see you in the dreams—to almost be able to roll over and touch you right before I wake up.”

  “Luke,” Mara said gently.

  He didn’t want her to stop him, to tell him she needed to go, not before he had said what was in his heart. “And even when I am awake, I feel you with me. You even talk to me.”

  “Luke.” He fell silent, regarding her. She searched his eyes for a moment, then the specter of Mara Jade Skywalker said quietly, “Whoever you were with on the Jade Shadow … it wasn’t me.”

  SHOCK EXPLODED THROUGH LUKE AND HE LITERALLY STUMBLED backward a step.

  “W-what?”

  He thought of the female presence aboard the Jade Shadow, slipping into his dreams and even those moments of borderline wakefulness. A body curved into, an arm draped over him … He had been so convinced it was Mara. It was her ship, she had been his wife. Why wouldn’t it be Mara?

  “What is it, Skywalker?” It was Gavar Khai, and his voice was concerned. No doubt he was thinking anything powerful enough to distress Luke was something they all needed to worry about. And maybe it was.

  “It wasn’t me,” Mara repeated.

  Who
else could it—

  And he knew. Horror and repugnance buffeted Luke. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. Luke forced back the shock and nausea. It would serve nothing now.

  “No, it wasn’t,” he managed finally, his voice raw. “I should have known. I’m sorry.”

  Her brilliant green eyes were kind. She was beyond annoyance or jealousy. “You couldn’t have. She is ancient, and powerful, and dangerous. Very dangerous. But you’re onto her now. She is never what she appears. Remember that. And next time you feel a ghostly presence lying beside you—” She smiled, even as she began to drift downward, her face becoming a smaller oval in the dark water, her hair a fiery nimbus, “—make sure it’s me.”

  Luke laughed, a sound that was almost a sob, and nodded.

  “Skywalker, if you have anything to share with us that could help us, please do.” It was Taalon’s voice, cold and irritated.

  Luke took a deep breath. “We need to return. Now.”

  Ben stifled a yawn. Sitting beside his father’s body was every bit as boring as it had been back on Sinkhole Station—more so as there wasn’t the fear of the unknown to keep him alert. Luke knew what he was doing, his body was safe, and Ben could still sense nothing of Abeloth.

  “Why do you think she’s hiding from us?” he asked Vestara.

  “I wish I could say I think she was afraid,” Vestara said. “But I think she’s just playing with us.”

  “Do—do you think we can beat her?”

  “I am Sith, Ben. I’m supposed to think Sith can beat anything in the known universe.”

  Her voice was serious, but when he glanced over at her she was smiling. It faded a moment later as she continued. “But she’s ancient, and very powerful. The only way is if we can trick her, somehow.”

  “Trick? Dad wants to go up and start a conversation with her. I’m afraid I have to say I’m with Taalon on that. I don’t think that will do much except get us killed.”

  “Yet you are prepared to back his attempt to do so.”

  “So are the Sith.” He paused, peered at her. “Aren’t they?”

  Vestara’s gaze slid away. “We’ll do whatever is necessary to achieve our goal.”