Star Wars - The Courtship of Princess Leia

by Dave Wolverton

  "I can't agree to that," the male witch said. "I hardly know you."

  "What?" Teneniel asked. "Am I so ugly that you would rather be captured by the Nightsisters? Would you rather spawn with one of them and watch your daughters master their spells?"

  "I . . . don't know what the Nightsisters are," the male witch said, yet his blue eyes opened wide with fear, and his voice was tight.

  "You can feel them nearby, can't you?" Teneniel asked. "Isn't that enough? You will be a valuable breeder. Who has ever heard of a male spellcaster? Rather than let yourather than let any of usfall into their hands, I will kill us all." She pulled out one of their blasters.

  The little mechanical person squealed and its metal housing rattled on its frame. Its single blue eye swiveled from Teneniel to the male witch.

  "No!" the male witch said, nodding toward his friends. "It's not them that the Nightsisters want, is it? It's you and me. The Nightsisters are drawn to us. Let my friends go. The Nightsisters will not bother them. You and I can escape!"

  "You will be my mate?" Teneniel asked hopefully. The male witch licked his lips, looked at hernot just at her face, but at her body, and Teneniel realized with a start that he thought she was attractive. Overhead a warm wind stirred the trees, and the leaves began to whisper.

  "Perhaps," the male witch said. "But I won't make that choice unwillingly. I didn't come to this planet looking for a wife. I'm not your property, and I won't allow you to kill anyone here, including yourself."

  The male witch's lightsaber flipped from her belt, activated itself and tumbled through the air, slicing his bonds and returning to his hand.

  "I had to ask, at least," Teneniel said, glancing away. She had been wondering all day if it was possible to keep a male witch enslaved. The ease with which he'd just freed himself answered that question, and the fact that he could cast spells without voicing them or using gestures unnerved her. Some of the sisters could do that with simple spells, but this male witch did it with even complex spells. She didn't want him to see the fear in her face, or the hope. "Tell me, offworlder, do men on your planet have names?"

  "I am Luke Skywalker, a Jedi Knight. These are my friends, Isolder and Artoo."

  Teneniel laughed. "A Knight? You are not much of a warrior, Luke Skywalker." He used the lightsaber to cut the bonds of the handsome prisoner.

  Teneniel told Isolder and Artoo, "Luke Skywalker and I will lead the Nightsisters away from here. As Luke Skywalker has said, they may not be interested in you. If you want shelter, then you must go to that mountainthe one that juts up like a wall." She pointed forty kilometers in the distance. "There you will find my clan sisters." She did not tell them that if they survived the journey, she would take them slave again. She was not interested in Isolder as a breeder, not with Luke Skywalker around, but she was sure she could sell him for a small fortune.

  She tossed Isolder his blaster, hoping it would be enough to get him to the clan alive. He already had his pack with its food and tent.

  "Come with me, Luke Skywalker," Teneniel said.

  "Just call me Luke."

  She nodded, took off through the woods at a run, heading east through a sunny glade where dewplates grew thick and green. Her discovery spell still worked; she could feel the Nightsister ahead, not half a kilometer off. Teneniel tried to form her plans, consider her battle spells, but somehow the effort of trying to run and think at the same time seemed too much. She felt confused, unsure even which direction she was running, and she wondered if she might not be under the influence of a spell herselfbut the thought slipped away before she could grasp it. Teneniel's gift was casting the Force storm, and here in the trees such a storm should be able to hide them. She hoped to meet the Nightsister head-on, then slip past her in the storm. It seemed a daring plan to Teneniel, a brilliant plan, to rush toward the Nightsister. Once the plan was formed, Teneniel felt a great sense of ease, knowing she had made the right decision.

  Luke ran effortlessly. At first she thought he must have great stamina, but after a few minutes she saw that he did not sweat like a normal person. Therefore, he must have cast a spellsome spell she'd never heard of, and Teneniel had the unnerving realization that he might be more powerful than she'd imagined. Truly, she had captured him easily, and he had trudged along through the day making a show of pulling at his bonds. But he could have freed himself at any time, and she could feel that he did not fear her. And he knew secret spells that none of the sisters had ever heard.

  "Do you always use words when you cast spells?" Luke asked almost casually as he ran.

  "Or gestures. Some learn to cast silently, as you do," Teneniel gasped, sucking for air. Luke gauged her as she struggled up the hill, sweating. Teneniel knew she did not look her best at the moment. When they got back to the clan, she could dress in clean clothes.

  The Nightsister could not be far ahead, so as they ran for the top of a small wooded rise, Teneniel began chanting, eyes half-closed, preparing her spell. She stopped with Luke, and the wind above her trembled, feeling her power. She peeked over the hill into a small valley filled with young snowbark trees. Through the thick woods she saw the Nightsister dressed in purple robes, along with twenty of Zsinj's men dressed in the camouflaged armor of Imperial stormtroopers.

  One trooper shouted, "Up there!" and raised a blaster rifle. Teneniel focused her spell. Immediately the magic wind rosestorming across the ground so hard that rotted leaves and twigs rose in a maelstrom, blinding her enemies. The trees swayed and cracked in the wind.

  Luke would have stood watching, but Teneniel grabbed his hand and rushed through the storm, the wind following at their backs, unable to see more than an arm's length in front of them. The wind began to die a bit, and Teneniel worked harder, drawing energy from the land. The tempest grew black as Teneniel was compelled to blast topsoil from the ground, and all around them the maelstrom denuded the slender green leaves from the snowbarks.

  The filthy wind blotted out the sun, and Teneniel dodged and wove through the trees, seeking a way past the Nightsister. Teneniel could still feel her, twenty meters to their right, and just when Teneniel was sure she was past, a bolt of blue lightning pierced through the haze, struck Teneniel in the breast, jarring her mind, lifting her in the air.

  The Nightsister stood before them, flames flying from her fingertips, and Teneniel recognized the hag Ocheron, a woman who had been powerful in her clan, a woman gifted at deception. Too late, Teneniel realized that Ocheron had caused them to run into her trap.

  Ocheron laughed and the blue lightning arced from her fingertips, sucked Teneniel's breath away. She shrieked for help. The flames dug into her like fiery claws. The world reeled, and the blue lightning played over her. It touched a breast, and the breast went so cold it felt as if it had been severed. Tongues of lightning played up her left arm, and the arm seemed to die and wither instantly, like a cut ola vine. A bolt of lightning sizzled into her ear, and all sound left her, another arc touched her eye and half the world went black.

  The lightning sucked the very life from each limb it touchedslicing parts of her away like a giant blade. She could not fight it, could not run away. She felt so helpless, she could not even scream as she collapsed.

  Time seemed to slow as she fell. Ocheron cackled and the killing fire streamed from her fingers. Teneniel's spell faltered the wind hushed. Soot and debris still filled the sky like a dark fog, but twigs began to rain down in the storm.

  Then there was a flash of blue and the smell of ozone as Luke pulled his lightsaber, switched it on and lunged. Ocheron's eyes widened in surprise at his attack, and she tried to turn her attention to himtoo late. The lightsaber struck off her head. Purple flames erupted from her neck like water thundering down a mountain stream, and Luke covered his face, trying to shield himself from the touch of the dark power he'd unleashed.

  Four stormtroopers rushed through the dark fog, firing their blasters. Luke deflected bolts with his lightsaber and attacked, killing the men swift
ly.

  Teneniel found her voice, tried chanting again. Luke grabbed her arm and pulled her as the wind rose around them. She stumbled along blindly, mumbling her spell in desperation until they reached the top of another hill and stepped out of the swirling maelstrom.

  Teneniel fell silent, and Luke half-carried her through some deep woods along a hillside. Teneniel remembered an old cave, pulled him to it, and they stumbled inside.

  There Teneniel lay on the ground panting. Luke studied her wounds. The blue lightning had left deep burns. The wounds were searing hot, and Teneniel coughed. Blood flecked out of her mouth, coming up from a wound in her lungs, and she began to cry, knowing she was about to die.

  Luke pulled at the charred leather of her tunic until it ripped, then traced his fingers over the wound on her breast. His hand was cool, soothing like a balm, and she faded into a deep, uneasy sleep.

  In her dreams, Teneniel was a girl, and her mother had died. The sisters of the Singing Mountain clan had laid the corpse out on a stone table to dress it and paint her mother's face in flesh tones. But Teneniel knew she was dead, could not bear to watch the sisters try to create the illusion of life. She ran up a flight of gray steps, past a woven mat that bore the image of a clan sister in yellows and white, holding a war spear. Beyond it was the warriors' hall, a room where commonersthose without the spellcasting abilityor mere apprentices like Teneniel were never allowed entrance, no matter if their mother had been war leader, no matter what their level of talents.

  Teneniel let the mat close behind her, and stopped, staring in horror at the sheer enormity of the room. The ceiling seemed to stretch up endlessly, and the far walls were lost in shadows. The war room had been excavated through much of the mountain, and even the echoes of Teneniel's rough breathing came soft and diffused, lost in the distance. In the wall to the left a lookout window had been carved. The window was large enough so that perhaps twenty women could stand at it abreast, and was shaped in an oval, like the opening of a huge mouth. A row of spears lay propped against the lower sill, reminding Teneniel of the ragged, uneven teeth of a rancor.

  For a long moment, she felt the yawning emptiness of the room, felt the yawning emptiness inside her. Swallowed, I've been swallowed. Teneniel closed her eyes, tried to forget her mother's stiff and purpled body, the rigid fingers curled into claws. Yet the yawning horror could not be closed out. Somewhere, she could hear a little girl shrieking in terror. She ran, and everywhere Teneniel went, she pulled aside the hanging curtains to expose rooms. Witches fed in the rooms, reclining on soft leather cushions. Witches talked daintily, laughing and casting spells. And all the while, Teneniel could hear the young girl crying, but no one seemed to notice.

  When Teneniel woke, hours had passed. It was night outside the cave, and Luke had placed a small mechanical light on a rock beside her. Teneniel's tunic was off, and the Jedi had covered her with a blanket from his pack. She felt no pain, only a deep sense of ease, unlike anything she had ever felt in her life.

  Teneniel touched her breast, her face. The scars were hot to the touch, but she could see with her eye, hear with her ear. She looked around the cave. Its walls were crudely painted with stick images of women in various posessome resting their hands on the heads of others, one woman hovering above a crowd, another walking through flames. The cave went back only twenty meters, and human bones littered the floor near the back. Atop the pile of human bones was another skeletonlarger, with horrific teeth and a humerus longer than a man. The skeleton of a rancor.

  But the Jedi had gone, leaving his pack. Teneniel got up, drank some water from her gourd. Her feet were cold, so she packed some straw into her boots, then lay back to rest. She still felt weak. Her head spun from more than fatigue. The Jedi had healed her wounds, never chanting a spell. Among the sisters, none who had the healing gift could do such a thing. The healing spells were the most difficult to master, and they were sung in such a flamboyant manner that Teneniel often thought the sisters put on more of a display than they needed. Still, all agreed that the healing spells must be sung. If the Jedi had cast such spells without so much as a word, he must be truly powerful indeed.

  Often, while camping under the stars, Teneniel had wondered what it was like on other worlds. She had heard from her sisters of the stormtroopers at the prison, so secure with their armor and their weapons. But these weak stormtroopers did not understand spellcasting, and they fawned over the recreant Nightsisters. Yet Teneniel had often dreamed that somewhere up there on another world were men like Luke.

  Teneniel reached up under the blanket, touched her breast where the Jedi had rested his fingers. Someday, she thought, someone will fill this emptiness inside me.

  Outside the cave, she heard a scuffling. Luke came in, followed by Isolder and Artoo. Luke sat at her side, stroked her cheek with his palm.

  "Are you feeling better?" he asked. Teneniel grabbed his hand, nodded, unsure what to say. She looked into his pale eyes. She had lost him. He had saved her life, and now she could no longer claim ownership.

  "The Nightsisters met where we did battle," Luke said, "but then turned back. I'm not sure if they are leaving for reinforcements, or what."

  "They know there are two of us," Teneniel said, "and you killed Ocheron, one of their stronger warriors. They may be afraid that we can overpower them."

  "What about the stormtroopers?" Isolder asked. "They must have had a hundred troops with them." Being only a human, he did not understand.

  "They don't count," Teneniel said, and she wondered. Perhaps these offworlders did not understand the situation as well as she thought, so she explained, "Stormtroopers are easy to kill."

  "I don't like this," Isolder said. "I don't like the idea of being backed into this cave."

  "The Nightsisters will not fight us here," Teneniel said. "This place is sanctified by the blood of the old ones." She sat up, nodded toward the human skulls littering the floor beneath the skeleton of the rancor.

  "You really think that they'll keep clear of this place?" Isolder asked.

  "Even the dead have some power," Teneniel said, nodding toward the piles of skulls. "The Nightsisters would not court their wrath."

  Luke nodded. At least the Jedi understood. He asked, "What were your ancestors doing here? How did they get here?"

  Teneniel wrapped her arms around her legs, and stared into his eyes. "Long ago," she said, "the old ones came from the stars. They were warriors, masters of machines who built forbidden weaponsmachine warriors that looked like men. And they sold them to others, cheap.

  "Your people cast them out of the sky for their crimes, and sent them here. The warriors were given no weaponsno metal, no blasters. So they fell prey to rancors." Teneniel half-closed her eyes. She'd heard the story so many times that now she envisioned that distant past, saw the prisoners sent to Dathomir. They were violent people who had committed gross crimes against civilization and who, therefore, merited only a life outside civilization. Many of the prisoners considered themselves above the law and thought of their weapons only as toys. So the ancients had considered it just to strand them on a world without technology.

  "For many generations they lived like beasts, and were nearly hunted to extinction, until the star people cast out Allya."

  Luke had a faraway look in his eye, the way old Rell did when she saw visions. "This Allya was a rogue Jedi," Luke said with certainty, leaning forward. "The Old Republic did not want to execute her, so the Jedi exiled her, hoping that given time she would turn away from the dark side."

  Teneniel said, "She used her spells to tame the wild rancors and hunt food. She taught her daughters all of her lore, and taught them to hunt for their mates, even as I hunted for you. While rancors dined on others, the daughters of Allya prospered from generation to generation, teaching their own daughters the spells. We divided into clans, and for a long time the clans vied for men in friendly competition, stealing mates. We governed ourselves, punished anyone caught using the night spells. I
n my grandmother's day, we pushed the wild rancors from these mountains. My grandmothers hunted the last of them. We hoped for peace at last.

  "But in my mother's time, the outcast Nightsisters gathered together. At first, they were not many, but . . ."

  "Some of you tried to fight them, using their own tactics," Luke offered. "And those who did became Nightsisters themselves."

  Teneniel looked up at Luke. "So, does this thing happen on other worlds too? Some of the sisters say it is only a disease, an illness that we catch, which turns us into Nightsisters. Others say it comes from using the spellsbut I do not know which spells they are talking about. Our spells have been tested over generations."

  "It is none of your spells and all of your spells," Luke said. "Tell me, how old were Allya's daughters when she died?"

  "The oldest was sixteen seasons," Teneniel said.

  Luke shook his head. "A mere childtoo young to learn the ways of the Force. Listen, Teneniel, it isn't the spells themselves that give you poweryou are drawing on the Force, a power created by all living things around us. Because the daughters of Allya were strong in the Force, they mastered it somewhat. But it isn't the words you speak that give you power, nor is it any one spell that corrupts you it is the intent with which you cast your spells, the nature of your desires. If your heart is corrupt, your works will be corrupt. If you listened to your heart, then you would know this." Teneniel fidgeted. "I think you do know this," Luke continued. "You could have killed that Nightsister and the stormtroopers a few hours ago. Instead you simply tried to cover your escape, sneak around them. Your . . . generosity surprised me."

  "Of course. If I killed the Nightsisters, I would be as evil as they are," Teneniel said flippantly, trying to hide her fear that she might become one of them.

  "You listened to the Force, let it guide you," Luke said. "But in other ways you are cruel. You tried to kidnap me and Isolder. Do you really think you could take a man slave, or pummel me with rocks, and still hope to retain your innocence?"