Sins of the Father/Part 21

For a second Zaella dared to hope she could land the sai cha and be done with this exhausting, excruciating ordeal; Narasi's eyes widened, and Zaella knew her Jedi gullibility had lowered her guard. At the last second, though, the Zygerrian brought her blade up to meet the attack, and though the impact drove her back, she got her feet planted and her guard raised at once.

"What the hell?!"

"I won't lose!" Zaella snarled, attacking in a rush; she knew she didn't have much left, and she needed to kill Narasi before she burned out what she still had. "I can't lose!"

"You treacherous little—!"

The need to defend herself cut Narasi off before she could deliver the insult, but Zaella thought it would be something inventive, judging by the look on her face. She slashed and stabbed, coming from as many different angles as she could, mixing up attacks; several of them came close, and Narasi's face tightened with focus. She was clearly unused to Zaella's style, and that made her weak.

Narasi flung herself back, and Zaella leapt for a followup, but Narasi raised a hand, and an invisible battering ram knocked her out of the air, sending her rolling back across the sand; her leg banged into Ghrond's chestplate where he had dropped it, and a spasm of pain shot through her calf. She got to her feet, but Narasi had pursued her, and before she could ready a Force attack of her own, the Zygerrian Jedi counterattacked.

Like Zaella's, Narasi's style was a mix of techniques, though it appeared more in flux than deliberate. But Narasi was just as fast and much stronger; she could do with one hand what Zaella did with two. Once she realized it, Narasi switched to a one-handed style like Makashi, and the long reach of her lunges forced Zaella onto the defensive. She slashed in at Narasi's wrist, but Narasi spun a complete circle, dodging the slash and nearly impaling Zaella when she came back around with a blind jab.

Zaella skipped back, then charged right in with a slash, but Narasi ran to meet her, and at the last second the Jedi dropped into a slide over the sandy floor. Zaella dove into a roll over Narasi's sliding slash at her ankles, but by the time she turned Narasi was already back on her feet. The Jedi rebuffed Zaella's next charge easily, and when she counterattacked Zaella gave ground.

She could feel her arms burning, hear her racing breaths; she was burning out. She tried to channel her pain and anger into faster and stronger blows, but Narasi matched her strike for strike, her blue eyes narrowed in focus. Blood dripped down her face and into her eye; tchun pounded waves of pain into her head, distracting rather than empowering; her calf throbbed. She was hemorrhaging concentration as fast as strength, but even though she had seen Ghrond smack Narasi out of the air with his hammer, the Jedi seemed to be gaining focus. It made Zaella angry, but as the blue blade flashed close to her, it also made her afraid, and the fear hollowed out her power and left her alone with helpless rage.

Zaella stabbed, but Narasi stepped in, smashing her blade down with both hands; their blades met just above the emitters, and the angle knocked the lightsaber out of Zaella's hands. Panicked, she pushed Narasi away and reached for her fallen weapon in the Force, but Narasi turned into a spinning back side kick that blindsided Zaella, smashing into her ribs and knocking her to the ground as her lightsaber sailed by overhead. She rolled onto her back, but even as the Force outlined her fallen lightsaber hilt for her, she saw Narasi coming, fury on her face and lightsaber cocked over her shoulder.

She wasn't going to get her lightsaber in time, and fear become terror as she realized she had no chance. Instinctively, childishly, she fell back on a child's reflex and covered her face with her hands. "MERCY!"

She heard the dopplering slash of the lightsaber blade and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the horrible, searing pain. She tensed more and more as the seconds flitted by, legs curling toward her torso. She could still feel the pain of her injuries, so Narasi hadn't killed her instantly…

When she cracked her eyes open, she saw Narasi standing over her, blade hovering a few decimeters above her body. Narasi leaned forward in an unnatural way; Zaella thought she had jerked to a halt mid-blow. Her teeth were bared and her eyes were narrowed, but her head was cocked a little to the side.

"What are you waiting for?" Zaella tried for a hiss, but it came out a pained moan. "Do it."

Don't do it! her mind screamed, but Zaella knew it was over, and she didn't want to go out mewling like a baby.

Narasi's chest heaved from her heavy breaths, but she kept staring. "What did you say?"

"Come on, just do it!" ''Don't! Don't, please. Please, please, don't.'' "Have some decency, Jedi!  Don't make me beg, just get it over with!"

Narasi's nostrils flared, and she twitched her blade closer; Zaella flinched, but there was no cut. Why was she dragging it out? "What. Did.  You.  Say?"

Zaella looked up, hating Narasi and herself in equal measure. Did she just want to gloat? Weren't the Jedi supposed to be above this? "What, it's not enough that you won, you want me to debase myself for you? Will that make you feel better?  Fine.  'Mercy'—I said 'mercy'.  As in, 'please have mercy, don't kill me'.  All right?  Is that enough now?  Will you please just get this over with?"

She heard her voice crack and knew she would die in shame after all; it burned her through, leaving a hole in her where her pride had been. Narasi took one hand off her lightsaber hilt, and the Force brought Zaella's traitor lightsaber to her grip. Was Narasi going to execute her with her own weapon?! That seemed low even for a Sith. She tried to harden her face.

Narasi clipped Zaella's lightsaber to her belt, then disengaged her own blade and attached it to the opposite side. She straightened, stepped back, and nodded. "Okay."

Zaella blinked. "What?"

Narasi's face softened; her eyes were guarded and careful, but the battle light was gone. "You asked me for mercy, so…okay."

"I…but…what?"

Narasi shook her head. "I didn't want to kill you in the first place, remember?"

"But…the Koboskya no—"

"I think they all know I beat you. I won.  We get the weapon.  That's all this was about—protecting people from a weapon like this.  I never wanted to hurt you, or even him." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "It's over, Zaella. You wanted mercy, so…okay.  Mercy it is.  You can go."

Zaella sat up, fighting against the flicker of hope but unable to deny it. Narasi had no reason to toy with her this far, and it really wasn't a Jedi thing to do. She really meant it. Mercy. Zaella wasn't going to die, she could go back to—

She shivered, cold all over at once. Narasi narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"I can't," Zaella whispered. "I can't go back."

"Why not?"

"Izkara!" Zaella's breathing sped up, and her heart began to pound again. She could feel the sunspot of rage in the distant stands. "She's gonna kill me!"

Narasi winced, and Zaella had the strange impression the Jedi understood. Narasi glanced toward the stands, thought for a moment, then said, "Tirien. Go to Tirien, my master."

"But—"

"Trust me. Go."

And she turned her back and walked away, kneeling beside Ghrond's corpse; as she got to her feet, feeling every one of her aches and pains redoubled, Zaella saw Narasi was holding her lightsaber hilt up against her forehead. It looked like some sort of meditative exercise, even a religious discipline. Zaella wanted to call out to her, but she found herself turning away; she felt guilty for even seeing the little bit that she had.

As she limped toward the gate, Zaella felt Izkara's rage boiling up, and she knew she was walking to another, more hideous death than the one she had avoided; she started to wish Narasi had cut her down after all. When she was within three meters of the gate, the barrier powered down to let her pass.

Tirien and Izkara stood facing her, a few meters from her and several from each other. Izkara's red-and-yellow eyes flared. "Get back in there, you stupid slut! Pick up a weapon and fight!"

Zaella winced, glancing helplessly at Tirien. She saw again the way he seemed to look through her, the way that made her feel at once naked and beneath his notice. He frowned. "What did she say, Zaella?"

"I…I asked her for mercy…"

"Oh, we all heard you begging like an animal, schutta! I should flay off your eyelids so you can see everything that's coming for you!"

"And then?" Tirien pressed, ignoring Izkara.

"She…she said okay. She gave me mercy.  She told m-me to g-go to…to you…"

Tirien studied her in silence, and as he did Izkara growled, "You come here, right now, or I'll kill you where you stand."

Zaella gave Tirien an imploring look. He glanced once at Izkara, then back, and beckoned Zaella toward him.

"Don't even think it, Zaella!"

Please don't let me die, Zaella begged inside, and she started toward Tirien.

At once the Force tightened around her throat; she couldn't breathe, and her fingers clawed at her neck even though she knew it was useless. She dropped to her knees, her lungs spasming as they cried out for air. Her lips popped as her mouth opened and closed, and she only half-realized Tirien was standing over her.

"Let her go, Izkara." His voice was soft and cool, and he had one hand raised, palm out. Zaella had a second for a mirthless laugh inside; of course the Jedi thought he could just ask nicely…

"This is none of your business, Jedi!"

Tirien turned his hand, so now his index finger and thumb were held out, a few centimeters apart. "I said, let her go."

A sharp lance of the Force crossed the space between them, and Zaella heard Izkara gasp. At the same time, her trachea opened just enough for a whistle of air to make it to her lungs. They squeezed and burned, but she didn't black out, and she was able to look up.

Tirien was looking at Izkara, and the expression on his face made Zaella gasp, then cough when she couldn't get enough air from it. She had cowered under Izkara's rage and languished in her master's punishments for years, and she thought she knew every face of fear and danger. Tirien had none of the ballistic rage, the fiery eyes and palpable hate, but the awful, final coldness in his face was the most frightening thing Zaella had ever seen. Perhaps it was because of the way he felt in the Force; he had a sort of absolute confidence, an assurance that either Izkara would let her go or he would squeeze Izkara until she burst like a balloon—and a stoic acceptance of either outcome without much preference between them. It was tranquil, totally controlled, and terrifying.

In the end Izkara broke under Tirien's stronger choke, and Zaella could breathe again; she pitched forward, clinging to Tirien's leg so she wouldn't fall down as her chest heaved. Tirien held his choke a second longer, then let Izkara go, and Zaella heard her master fall to hands and knees. That angry, hateful voice rasped, "You worthless, treacherous little mongrel…I'll—"

"Breathe one more threat against Zaella," Tirien warned, calm but ice cold, "and it'll be the last breath you ever take. My respect for Lady Runganna will let you walk out of here alive; don't throw that away."

Again, his tone suggested to Zaella not so much that he wanted to kill Izkara, but more that he would not lose sleep if he had to.

"But…" Zaella gasped. Tirien looked down at her and offered her a hand; she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, and when she wobbled for balance he steadied her. She shook her head again. "But…why? Why stand up for me?"

"Narasi showed you mercy," he answered. "And the mercy of one Jedi is the mercy of all Jedi. As long as you're done fighting us, you're safe."

She still found it hard to meet his eyes, though she knew part of it was because she had just tried to kill his apprentice. He tipped his head, and she stepped behind him; Izkara was glaring daggers at her, and Zaella averted her eyes, but she felt safe in the Jedi Knight's shadow. He did not seem at all uncomfortable having her at his back, though the hypercritical voice inside noted that anyone who could take Izkara to school with just the Force and a raised hand wasn't going to be too troubled by a Sith apprentice who couldn't even bring down a Padawan. Glancing to her side, Zaella saw the two Mandalorians in conversation.

"Lady Runganna," Tirien called, and Zaella looked up at the thronelike dais above them all. "Narasi defeated your champion and the Sith's. We'll take possession of the bomb now and transfer you your credits."

"Your Padawan fights well," Runganna conceded. "I was told my Dashade would be invincible."

"You were misinformed. The bomb?"

Runganna waved a hand. "It was a good first round. Let's see what else she can do."

Zaella shivered as the Force around Tirien chilled. "Our agreement was the Koboskya no Jankpa and twenty million credits. We're ready to transfer the credits now, and Narasi defeated—"

"She only killed my Dashade," Runganna snapped. "The Koboskya no Jankpa is to the death. You want to throw the little Twi'lek back in the ring and let Rican finish her?"

Zaella flinched, imagining Tirien turning those critical, evaluating yellow eyes on her while he weighed his options, but he didn't even twitch. "No chance. The mercy of one Jedi is the mercy of all Jedi."

"Then I want my death, Jedi! Time to see something really entertaining!"

And the gate powered back up, sealing Narasi inside. She got to her feet at once, and Zaella felt her surprise and concern.

"Runganna…" Tirien said, a clear threat in his voice now, but the Ganks took aim at him in unison. Zaella realized they had left the bomb where it was and encircled Runganna's dais. She felt Tirien reaching into the Force, weighing odds, and thought that perhaps right behind him might not be the safest place to be after all.

"Calm, Master Jedi," Darqyren advised. "It would be a shame if you became unruly and perished now, you wouldn't want to miss this."

Tirien turned to look, and Zaella saw his eyes widen. Behind her, she felt the two Mandalorians catapult to their feet. Looking across the way, she saw a figure she recognized from one or two glances at the party. "So? Are you gonna help her?"

For the first time, Zaella saw real emotion on his face—he looked agonized. But it lasted only a second before he squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his expression together. "I can't."

"You just kicked my master's ass without even trying! You can beat this guy!"

"No, I mean…I can't help her. I have to let her do this.  She has to face this, or she'll never be a Jedi."

"Why?! Who is this guy?"

Tirien's eyes opened, and Zaella cringed away from the look there. "The man who killed her parents."