Kenobi

by John Jackson Miller

  Nothing but echoes.

  And Annileen. “He’s too smart for you,” she said.

  Orrin looked back and scowled. “Shut up.”

  He turned his attention back to the perimeter. Something was moving out there, on both sides of the clearing. He could hear it. But as soon as he looked in either direction, the noise stopped, too.

  This is no good, Orrin thought. He looked back at the route they’d taken to get here. He wished he had some idea what was happening in the battle below. Could he and the kids bring down Kenobi’s body and blame the mess on him? Or did they need to keep moving, perhaps crossing enough of the Jundland to reach freedom? He stalked around the well, kicking a pail.

  From behind a boulder, a spiky reptilian half a meter long bounded into the clearing. A massiff! Dark-eyed and big-jawed, it charged straight for Orrin, who quickly drew a bead and shot. Struck by the orange energy, the massiff squawked and fell to the ground.

  Orrin looked back at Mullen and Veeka. “Thanks for the assist,” he said drily.

  “We’re watching for the big game,” Mullen said. He had Annileen’s arm in one hand and his blaster in the other, as his eyes continued to scan their surroundings.

  Orrin looked at the smoking creature and got an idea. Checking first that he was covered, he holstered his weapon and stepped toward the oozing massiff. He lifted the carcass. “Let’s do some home improvement,” he said loudly. Arriving back at the well, he dangled the dripping body theatrically over the hole. “Down you go—”

  “Don’t!” Ben’s voice called out from afar.

  Orrin lifted the massiff by its legs and looked around. “What,” he called out, “you don’t want me to poison your friends’ well?”

  “I was saying that to A’Yark,” Ben’s voice boomed. “The one you call Plug-eye. Because she’s going to shoot you, and you might accidentally drop the animal in anyway.”

  Somewhere, Orrin heard a weapon safety clicking on. He nodded. So the Tuskens were listening to Kenobi. “Glad to have gotten your attention,” he said.

  “Turn back now,” Ben repeated.

  This time, Orrin could tell that the voice was coming from the forest of pillars to the west. “I don’t feel like turning back,” he said, tossing the creature’s limp form down the hole. It bounced twice before hitting bottom with a thud. The well was dry.

  Orrin looked around. No one had fired at him. Ben wanted Annileen alive, and the Tuskens were following his lead. But Ben could change his mind at any moment, and Orrin wasn’t about to let him call the Sandies down on him.

  Pulling his weapon, Orrin made his way carefully to an opening in the western rocks. He shot a look back to Mullen and Veeka and mouthed a command. Wait for me.

  Orrin stepped amid the megaliths. It was as bizarre a natural formation as he’d seen on Tatooine—almost designed by nature to form a labyrinth. Mountain wind whistled between the towers, which rose high enough to blot out even the midday suns. He certainly didn’t lack for cover here. Getting a clean shot would be another matter.

  “I know you’re there, Kenobi!” he bellowed.

  “Turn back now.” Ben’s voice resounded through the rocks, closer than before.

  Orrin spun and fired. The shot hit the base of a tower, leaving a smoking pit in the surface.

  He kept walking. There was more movement. Footsteps, fast and light. Orrin fired again, down a long corridor.

  Nothing. Somewhere, he heard a Tusken child crying. Orrin growled impatiently. “Enough games, Kenobi!”

  “Agreed,” Ben said, his voice coming from a different side now. “So turn back.”

  “No!” Orrin felt his eyes burning. With his left hand, he pulled out his second blaster; he raised both weapons and fired. Again and again, turning in all directions. He could see movement and dust rising. He only needed one lucky shot. Just one!

  Blasterfire from the labyrinth resounded across the clearing.

  “Ben, watch out!” Annileen yelled again.

  Unrestrained by his father’s presence, Mullen shoved her forward. Annileen stumbled across the shattered stones and fell. Sprawled across the rocks, she turned around to see the young man aiming his blaster at her.

  “I’ve never been able to stand these snotty Calwells,” he said, one eyelid twitching as he stalked toward her.

  Rifle in hand, Veeka looked at her brother. “Dad didn’t say to kill her.”

  “Do we need her now?” Mullen asked.

  “I don’t know that we ever needed her,” his sister responded.

  “Do you care?”

  “Not really,” Veeka said.

  Orrin continued to fire as he marched forward. He parted his hands and shot in either direction down the stony aisles—and then ahead and behind. He heard screaming from multiple quarters: the pathetic wails of frightened Tusken younglings. A bonus. All the frustration of the past months, all the worry of the last days fed through his body and the blasters in his hands.

  “Show yourself!”

  A cracking sound emanated from above. Reflexively, Orrin pointed his blasters upward. He’d been pounced on by Kenobi before—but the man wouldn’t get the drop on him again.

  Except the rock pillars were too tall for any man to scale, he saw. Then, suddenly, he heard another sickening snap, and a knife-shaped slab that had balanced for eons slid off the formation, plummeting toward him.

  Orrin leapt forward just before the massive chunk of stone stabbed the ground where he’d stood. Above, a fissure appeared in another stone tower. And another. Orrin cast his terrified eyes up and across the long rows of stone columns. This wasn’t a groundquake-by-bantha. This was something unreal—as if something invisible was pushing against the stones!

  He ran forward, blasters still clutched in his hands but his arms bent to shield his face from the rain of dust. Pebbles came down, and then chunks sheared off, striking all around.

  Orrin coughed as nuggets pelted his back. Another huge shard struck just ahead, and then another, behind.

  He screamed. “What’s going on?”

  Orrin looked up as a shadow fell over him.

  Thunder sounded in the rocks to the west. Mullen glared at his sister. “What in the blazes is going on over—”

  Before he could finish his sentence, Annileen threw a fistful of sand in his face. Blinded, he staggered, and Annileen grabbed his ankle, pulled it toward her, and bit down hard.

  Hearing her brother’s howl, Veeka pointed her rifle at Annileen. She fired once, but her injured shoulder jerked her arm to the left and the shot missed. With animal instinct, Annileen dived for Mullen’s legs, knocking him backward. She tried to wrestle with him to keep Veeka from drawing another clear shot, but Mullen was too strong. Pinning her, he pointed his blaster in her face.

  That was when Veeka screamed.

  A’Yark charged in from the cover to the west, howling a Tusken war cry. Before Veeka could bring her rifle around, A’Yark’s gaderffii smashed it from her hands. A return stroke sent the point of the gaderffii ripping through Veeka’s side.

  In agony, Veeka clutched her wound and fell away, scrambling to escape. A’Yark sprang over her toward Annileen and Mullen. Startled, Mullen pulled the blaster from Annileen’s face to take aim at the Tusken warrior.

  With all her might, Annileen heaved, forcing the burly man off to the side. His blaster sent a bolt just past A’Yark’s head, but the Tusken war leader did not stop. Swinging, A’Yark stabbed her gaderffii point deep in his abdomen. Annileen launched herself clear as A’Yark brought the weapon down again and again on Mullen’s body.

  “Posse kills,” A’Yark said in Basic. “Posse dies!”

  In a fog of dust, Orrin tried to crawl out from beneath the pile of rubble. Every move was painful. When he heard Veeka’s scream, he jolted upright—and felt the bones shift in his left leg.

  He fell to the ground at Ben’s feet.

  In the shadows, the cloaked figure knelt over Orrin. “I did tell you to turn back,” B
en said.

  Mullen howled from beyond. Ben looked up for a moment—and shook his head sadly. Whatever was happening, Orrin thought, Ben seemed satisfied that Annileen was safe. The man was in no hurry to leave.

  Orrin spat bitter dust from his mouth. “Couldn’t … turn back. Jabba’s people there …”

  Ben shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Your fear led to this—all of it. Fear of losing what you had. It put you on a path to suffering.”

  Ben looked back. From his position on the ground, Orrin saw a cowering Tusken youngling emerge from behind one of the stone pillars to stare at the two humans. Ben smiled reassuringly at the tiny masked figure before looking back to Orrin.

  “I know how the path ends for you,” the cloaked man said. “But there is still time, if you turn back now. Accept responsibility for what you’ve done. That won’t square you with the Tuskens, but it will be a start toward redemption.”

  Orrin sat up. He blinked the sand from his eyes. “I’ll lose everything,”

  Ben inhaled deeply. “Sometimes it takes losing everything to find your true path.”

  Ben started to stand—but then he looked up, alert. To the west, a monolith with a triangular slab balanced above it suddenly gave way, unable to support its own enormous weight. Huge rocks tumbled down. The little Tusken rushed to Ben’s side for protection. More stones snapped loose and slammed to the ground.

  Orrin could hear more Tusken children yowling in the maze as the debris landed. But he was more interested in Ben’s reaction. The man had seemed completely unafraid of the earlier phenomenon—almost as if he’d orchestrated the whole thing. But now, one hand on the clinging Tusken youngling, Ben looked worried.

  “Something’s wrong,” Ben said, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t do that …”

  A’Yark brought the gaderffii down again and again. Trying to reach her feet, Annileen saw Veeka crouching nearby. Limp and ashen-faced, Orrin’s daughter watched as her brother struggled, clawed, and finally ceased to move under A’Yark’s attack. Then she turned and fled for the northern gap, and the trail leading downhill.

  A’Yark lifted her bloodied weapon and glanced back at the departing Veeka. But before she could give chase, the Tusken younglings, frightened by the clamor in the stone forest, poured from their hiding places to the west and clustered around A’Yark, separating her from Annileen.

  Annileen turned to follow—but A’Yark surprised her by calling out, “Ben!”

  Annileen stopped and looked back. As the crowd of children clutched at her robes, A’Yark lowered her weapon and looked to the west. A cloud of gray dust was rising into the air above the standing stones. A’Yark, who moments before had been in a blood rage, seemed spellbound. She spoke to the children in her own language—before looking at Annileen and repeating her words in Basic. “See it, Ann-uh-leen,” A’Yark said. “See Ben.”

  Annileen stared, uncomprehending, at the rising dust. She knew she was in the heart of Tusken territory, and that she should follow Veeka to the safety of the posse. But Ben was still here, and so was Orrin—and something big had happened. “Was it an avalanche?” she asked as the dust climbed. “Is Ben in trouble?”

  “No trouble,” A’Yark said softly. She nodded, watching again to the west. “No avalanche. I was right.”

  Annileen prepared to move again. But now the Tusken children began chattering and tugging at A’Yark’s garment. The warrior spoke to them hurriedly, clearly concerned about whatever information the excited younglings were providing. Then another deafening boom from the west followed—one that shook the pillars all around.

  “Is that trouble?” Annileen asked A’Yark. The warrior somehow seemed less fearsome now, surrounded by frantic younglings.

  “Is trouble,” A’Yark replied.

  The next sound from the west chilled Annileen’s spine. “Ayooooo-eh-EH-EHH!”

  She had heard the sound many times before—and she instantly knew this was no recording. “Krayt dragon,” she whispered.

  “Awakened by the sounds,” A’Yark said. Hastily, she tried to hoist a pair of children while still holding the bloody gaderffii. More younglings fled into the clearing from the western pillars. “I must hide the uli-ah,” the warrior said.

  On impulse, Annileen stepped forward and reached for a young Tusken’s gloved hand. “I’ll help.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  ORRIN STARED, STUPEFIED, as a monster stormed through the stone pillars toward him. Too large by far to fit into the corridor between the megaliths, the great reptile simply forced its way through like a battle tank, shattering them as it went. Hefty boulders bounced harmlessly off the quadruped’s greenish hide.

  It was a canyon krayt, bigger than any Orrin had ever heard of. Fifty meters long? Sixty? He wasn’t about to measure it. Terrified, he scanned the debris for his blasters. One was there, smashed beneath a rock. Where was the other? Could it do any good?

  “Kenobi!” Orrin yelled. “Help me up!”

  Clearly startled by the new arrival, Ben looked back at Orrin. But more squealing Tusken brats ran past, shocked out of hiding, and his attention turned to them. “Quickly!” Ben yelled, pointing to the east. “Go!”

  “Forget them!” Orrin tried to get Ben’s attention again, but saw that it was too late. The krayt had seen them through the dust cloud. Golden eyes glowing, it bounded forward, its clawed feet scrambling easily over the stones.

  It went for Ben and the Tusken child first, lashing out with its mighty tail. Orrin threw his arm in front of his face, petrified. He looked out to see Ben duck quickly, pushing the child to the ground as he did. The pillar the tail struck shattered, its pieces plummeting toward the man and child at its base. Ben started to move again. To grab the youngling, Orrin thought—

  —but instead, Ben thrust his arms high. The rubble halted in midair, as if collected in an invisible basin. Orrin looked at it in awe. And then looked back at Ben, mesmerized. Ben’s face strained from the effort, but he gritted his teeth and gave a shove to the air. Half a ton of collapsing stone tipped harmlessly away from the prone Tusken child.

  Orrin gawked. The krayt lunged.

  So did Ben, now wielding a weapon of gleaming blue light. A lightsaber!

  Leaping directly into the creature’s path, he sliced out with his weapon. The ripping movement caught the krayt in the face, severing a number of its already-jagged teeth. Startled, the dragon reared back. Behind Ben, the Tusken child scrambled to Orrin’s side—but the farmer was too fearful to shoo it away. Ben was moving again: this time, hopping lithely up a rock to the creature’s left, attracting its attention away from Orrin and the little Tusken.

  Mighty rocks grinding to powder beneath its feet, the behemoth wrenched violently. It pounded its horned head against the broken pillar Ben had perched on top of. But Ben was no longer there, Orrin saw. A backflip put the man on the krayt’s hind side, with an intervening lightsaber slash at one of its tough backfins.

  The act seemed only to infuriate the dragon. It charged away from Ben, pulverizing more columns as it did. From behind a teetering formation, a Tusken elder appeared, carrying an infant. The figure froze in panic before the rushing creature’s advance.

  Ben was running, too. His free hand whisked through the air in a purposeful wave—and up ahead of the krayt, the Tusken pair suddenly went aloft, flying harmlessly out of the monster’s path. Startled, the dragon slid to a halt—and screeched to the sky.

  It was a sound they’d hear in the oasis, Orrin thought. The Tusken child cowered, burying its head against Orrin’s shoulder. This time, Orrin pushed it away. Ben, the madman, had reached the dragon in the newly created clearing. Any thought of escape had passed: Orrin had to see this.

  Aware now of the danger Ben’s weapon posed, the krayt turned on all fours and lashed out with its massive barbed tail. Ben leapt over it the first time it passed, ducked it the second, and slashed at it on the third. There was no fourth stroke. The krayt howled, recoiling.
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  Orrin looked on with amazement. The surrounding stone pillars framed the combatants like some impromptu arena—only one far too narrow, and that would surely become Ben’s undoing, Orrin thought. The krayt seemed to realize it, too. Hampered by its injured tail, the krayt chose a new tactic—crushing Ben with its immense weight. Pointing toward Ben and tilting its head, the dragon threw its body into a roll. With nowhere to leap, Ben disappeared beneath the mass of tumbling fury. Another megalith was struck, and then another—tipping and shattering like ale bottles knocked over on a bar. Shards pummeled the krayt. And still it rolled, vanishing in the rising cloud of dust, Ben nowhere in sight.

  A second later the dragon appeared again, racing from the haze on all fours toward Orrin and the Tusken child. Orrin yelled—but then the krayt did, too, stopping meters short of them. Its head turned, its pointed beaklike mouth snapping in the direction of its shoulders—and now Orrin saw why. Ben was there, clinging to the creature’s jagged back, his tunic dirtied and torn. Somehow he had survived the roll and wound up on top. And he was no passive rider. He raked the creature’s haunches repeatedly with the lightsaber. That was what had stopped its advance, Orrin realized.

  And stopping, for the krayt, was deadly. Hopping from scale to stony scale, Ben landed astride the monster’s neck. Finding a weak plate in its carapace, Ben plunged his blue blade in. The krayt screamed, louder than any of Orrin’s sirens ever had. It shuddered, and Ben had to fight to stay atop the beast. But he did, and his lightsaber found a home again in the animal—this time, inside its primitive brain.

  The dragon died, its head thudding to rest meters from Orrin and the child.

  Mesmerized, Orrin looked at the massive carcass. A nasty black tongue slipped from its mouth. Beside Orrin, the youngling glanced back once at the dragon—and then at his savior—before scampering away without a word.

  Ben slipped off the creature’s back and stared silently at it. To Orrin, Ben seemed satisfied in the first moment—and then crestfallen in the next, as he seemed to realize what he’d just done in front of his witness.