A/N: Many thanks to Rilla and Buttercup for their great beta work!
Severing the Past
WendyNat
Chapter Nine
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"There it is," Zehrid said with a smile, sitting back. His face softened as he stared through the viewscreen at the small dot that grew increasingly larger as they approached. "We're home, Kylia."
"Almost home," Kerenne corrected, looking down at the readouts from the planet's security communications. Ever since the civil wars, Jabiim had increased its air security to ensure no alien armies could come to assist the rebels of either faction. It was a logical precaution, but highly inconvenient for travelers. "Once we get through all this security."
Kylia leaned forward excitedly and Zehrid grinned at her. "Ah, well, the security is all part of home, isn't it? At least we don't have any troubles leaving planet, just entering."
Ayliana and N'oenar stared through the viewscreen at the grey planet below them. He had told her what he knew of Jabiim, its history and rebellions, its basic landscape. The account of Jabiim's landscape had been rather short: muddy. Kerenne and Zehrid had confirmed the description during the final holochess battle earlier that day. "Constant rain. And I mean constant. Most people use repulsorlift skates if they have to get around where there isn't pavement of some sort. You'll sink right in, otherwise."
As they approached the surface, Ayliana chuckled softly, her eyes trained on the wet shimmer of the ground far below. "Looks like this isn't one of the five rainless days they get each year, doesn't it?"
N'oenar smiled slightly and nodded, but his attention was elsewhere. The images from his dreams haunted him, and at times he fancied he could see the memory of them more clearly than he could see the things currently around him. Master Yoda had fallen. Whether or not the rest of the dream images were true, he felt it deep in his bones that that particular scene had been truth. Reality. Hard and cold, and all too genuine.
Kerenne turned and grinned, and N'oenar pushed his thoughts to the background with a great effort. It wasn't easy to follow the teachings of the Living Force, and keep his thoughts on the here and now, but he would try.
--
It was a long time before they finally were able to disembark; the security was just as tight as Kerenne had indicated. Luckily, the inspectors didn't find the hidden areas of Kylia's cabin, and once the search was complete, they were left alone to load the repulsorlift sleds.
As long as it took, it was still only late morning when they finally found themselves walking to Kylia's family home. It was, Kylia assured them, quite close, and only required a short time on the repulsorlift skates when they crossed a mud field. When N'oenar took note of the prices requested by lift drivers, he didn't argue.
They walked along the path, his eyes drawn to the sides where lakes of mud shimmered, small dimples appearing as the rain continued. He'd never seen anything like it – fields of mud, even rolling hills of mud, surrounded the spaceport. Ahead of him, Kylia's orange hair was beginning to droop from the light rain. She'd refused to wear a hood, claiming that wet hair was part of being home. Kerenne had rolled her eyes and deliberately pulled on a hooded cloak. "Home or not, I don't like feeling like a drowned wamprat."
Kerenne and Zehrid also walked ahead of them, and he occupied himself for some time by studying their cloaks. They were made of some strange material that appeared to repel water. A blanket made of the same fabric covered the repulsorlift that carried Kylia's many trunks and bags.
As they turned off the side path and onto a main road of sorts, he looked over at Ayliana and frowned. She was walking oddly, her shoulders hunched, eyes darting around. Noticing his stare, she shrugged. "I have a strange feeling, like someone's following, but not quite that. I'm not sure."
N'oenar continued to walk, but he looked inward, feeling… there was something odd, something… someone watching, or following? Ayliana's senses had always been more attuned than his, and he didn't think that had changed. Furtively, he glanced behind them. A number of people also walked the path – the mud was too difficult to traverse, and there were few other dry areas to tread. One, in particular, drew his attention. A being walked, strangely hunched over, and the large hood obscured its face completely. Then, as the crowd milled and shifted, he lost sight of the hooded figure and he shook his head, feeling foolish.
They'd become paranoid, understandably so, but there was no way someone would recognize them here. Still, he determined to pay more attention to his senses. Even if he couldn't decipher the meaning immediately, didn't mean that it wasn't significant.
Kerenne seemed to notice their tenseness as they all stopped at the end of the path to put on the repulsorlift skates. She moved closer to him, moving easily on the skates. "Relax, N'oenar. No one here would recognize someone from your family, and even if they did, they wouldn't care."
N'oenar glanced at her, envious of the cloak she wore. His own was beginning to weigh him down, the fabric doing a fair job of holding the rain out, but nothing like the material of her cloak. "Unless there are credits involved."
"There aren't. Not yet, at least."
Beside them, Ayliana stood on the skates, wobbling rather dramatically, her cloak flying back before she could catch it and pull it around her again. Kerenne smirked, but Zehrid called out some tips and, within moments, she was moving smoothly. He only hoped he would do as well.
He stood slowly, recalling Zehrid's instructions to Ayliana, and was pleased that he didn't fall. They all began to head out over the mud field, and that was when he realized his pride had come too early. As the speed increased, he wavered, but he felt better when he saw Ayliana twitching her cloak back around her in irritation. She, too, had been caught off-guard by the speed of the skates.
"You'll get used to them," Zehrid called out. "Takes a day or so."
Obviously, Zehrid wasn't used to Jedi. Of course, he daren't say that, no matter what Kerenne claimed, but with a smirk at Ayliana, he closed his eyes and felt the Force flow through him, through his feet, into the skates…. He zipped past Zehrid, turned with a complicated maneuver, and then swept back to Ayliana.
"Or not that long, even," he called out to Zehrid, laughing when he saw the look on the man's face.
Kerenne chuckled. "You forgot that they've got great skills, didn't you? Oh, don't mind him, you two. He's jealous. Took him forever to learn how to use them when he was a kid."
"Fool things," Zehrid muttered, shaking his head. With a laugh, they continued after Kylia, listening to Kerenne's stories of how Zehrid had reacted when she'd taken right to the skates as a child. N'oenar sighed in satisfaction, still attuned to the Force that flowed through him. The wind whipped his hair about, his hood flew back, and the cleansing rain was light and cool on his face. The Force ran through him, through the air, connecting him to everything, and everyone…
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. He'd felt it, then. Someone. Watching or following. He looked over at Ayliana, and she nodded slowly. Turning, he scanned ahead all around them, but he saw nothing. Ayliana shook her head also after a moment, but he still decided to stay on alert. A bit of paranoia never hurt, after all.
--
An hour later, they found themselves in the Noor house, dry and relaxed. N'oenar was beginning to get a bit of a headache, however – they were good people, but a room full of Lysira-types were a little too much to deal with. He was still trying to get used to the shocking colors of hair – it seemed to be a Jabiim custom for women to search out the most impossibly odd colors for their hair. Well, odd for humans, at least.
Kylia was in her element, that was certain. He could feel the bond between the family members, and he admired it. It appeared that each generation had shown up at the main house for the homecoming, even the elders who lived in a separate home nearby.
"We haven't spent a lot of time together, really. But it's family." Kylia grinned. "They're always close, no matter what. You've already got that initial bond out of the way, so no awkwardness. Well, not in our family, at least."
That was the truth of the matter, he knew firsthand. It seemed that Lysira's word was enough to award them immediate 'family' status. Within an hour of arriving, he was treated like any of the other young men in the family.
And put to work.
The Noor family appeared to be strongly matriarchal, which wasn't at all surprising, considering the strength of personality Lysira and her daughter displayed. He doubted even Master Yoda himself would have been able to perform a remotely successful mind trick on any one of them. Even the youngest daughter, Iliera, would likely just giggle at the venerable Master and go about her mischief.
"Are you always this outnumbered?" Zehrid asked one of Kylia's male cousins – Metar - as they worked on some droids in a back work shed. N'oenar grinned when the man nodded and rolled his eyes.
"Usually." Metar turned the electrospanner one more time and stood, switching on the half-dismantled droid and reading some of the output on his datapad. "But we hold our own. Just let them think they're in charge, really."
N'oenar just shook his head, concentrating on the small kitchen droid he was repairing.
"Kylia's actually the best at this type of thing," the young man said, frowning at the readout. It evidently wasn't going as smoothly as he'd wanted. "But with the elders here, they try to keep us in our proper roles."
"And once the elders leave?"
"Then I'm letting Kylia fix this one!"
Zehrid looked over at the young man's handiwork, and grinned. Even after days of seeing it, N'oenar still was surprised to see Kerenne's crooked smile on her brother's face. At times, the resemblance between brother and sister was uncanny. Reaching one long arm out to flip on the droid's power, Zehrid laughed. "Yeah, you'd better let Kylia fix that one, Metar."
"No doubt." Metar threw down the datapad and sat on the ground, content to watch the others work. "We visited her on Coruscant a couple of times. She really keeps Aunt Lysira's droids running smooth, even made some improvements."
Zehrid grunted in agreement. "Yeah. She's good at that sort of thing."
"Really?"
"Yeah." Metar moved some parts to get more comfortable, leaning against a worktable. "Her mom wanted her to run a club, but it's not her thing. She wants to design stuff."
"So that's why she came back here?" N'oenar asked, looking up from his droid. Metar nodded.
Zehrid chuckled. "She's got to listen to the elders' opinions on that, but yes, that's why she came back. Not a lot of openings for droid design on Coruscant – the market's kind of full, if that makes any sense."
"Well, it's full for entry-levels," another cousin muttered. "She's got to make a name here, or somewhere else, before she can try to break in there."
N'oenar nodded along with the others, though he wasn't familiar with what they were discussing. It was far outside his realm of experience, and he found that it fascinated him. So this was how others lived, deciding where to make their name, what location would have the most need for their skills. He supposed that, in a way, the Jedi weren't that much different – except that the Masters identified the younglings skills early, and chose their path for them. They had some choice, but nothing like this.
As he continued to listen to the men's ramblings, he wondered what he would have done, had he been able to choose his own path. Then, with a jolt, he realized that, with the fall of the Jedi, he may now have that choice. He just wasn't certain how he felt about that.
--
After they returned to the house, N'oenar sought out Ayliana. Her even, steady nature would be calming for him, after his unsettling thoughts. When he asked Kylia where she was, she waved vaguely towards the rear of the house.
He made his way there, wondering where the others had gone. Then, as he entered the back room, he found out. Iliera was gone, having slipped out while the others were preoccupied with other tasks, and the others were out searching.
"Not again! I swear, that girl…" Iliera's mother stood at the back window. Her voice was supposed to sound teasing, but N'oenar could sense the underlying thread of anxiousness. And he didn't blame her – Iliera seemed to lack that normal amount of fear that kept most young people out of immediate danger.
"We'll help look," N'oenar said.
Ayliana nodded and put a hand on the woman's arm. "We may be able to sense something the others won't."
"Thank you both. Those fields beyond the forest are a danger – I think she took some skates, but I'm not sure-"
"We'll find her, don't worry." N'oenar grabbed two pairs of the repulsorskates from the stack by the back door, handing one pair to Ayliana. "Just in case."
"I thought she'd gone out to the work shed to watch the boys tinker with those droids…"
Ayliana squeezed the woman's arm once more and then they left the house, tracking down the path to the forest area. Under the heavy cover of the trees, the ground was more solid, particularly with the thick root systems creating a path of sorts around the mud. Unfortunately, that also meant that any tracks would be difficult to detect – especially if Iliera had, as her mother suspected, worn a pair of repulsorlift skates.
He voiced this concern to Ayliana, and she nodded. "If she brought skates with her, she'd be wearing them, not carrying them."
They searched for some time, scanning both the ground level and the trees, in case the girl had decided to climb up one of the many branches. The cover of the wide, flat leaves kept most of the moisture from them, and N'oenar felt dry enough to shove the hood away from his face to offer himself a better view of the surroundings.
"I don't get it… I feel something. She ought to be around here."
He looked at Ayliana. "Someone hiding? I'm sensing that, too. And close." Frowning, he scanned the trees ahead. Maybe she had climbed up one of them? Maybe-
He didn't need Ayliana's sharp intake of air to realize someone had joined them. He whirled, one hand on his saber, and studied the figure. He felt a creeping sense of hiding, still, but no aggression. No threat. Slowly, he allowed his hand to relax.
"Can we help you?"
The figure pushed back its hood, revealing a woman's face. Her eyes were wild, and as she stepped forward he unconsciously stepped back. She reminded him of someone…. The woman stared at Ayliana, then smiled widely. "I saw your weapon. I know you can feel it."
"My weapon?"
"When you fell, on the skates. It's hidden well, but your cloak came off, revealing it to my sight. The Jedi weapon you stole. Or maybe you fashioned it yourself, as I did? Just like a Jedi would." The woman shut her eyes, and N'oenar stole a glance at Ayliana. She looked as bewildered as he felt. "The great darkness is on us, now."
The voice was reverent, and he sensed that the woman meant 'great' in a completely different way than Master Dannew had, in his dreams. With a jolt, he realized suddenly where he'd seen her before: the first Dark Jedi that had invaded his dreams. The crazed woman that had cut her own throat. It was the same face, the same voice…
"But you know the darkness, too, don't you? It's good to meet others. My partner was killed…" The woman shook her head sadly, then snapped her eyes to N'oenar. "You're rogues? Or did you turn after being trained?"
"Turned? We haven't turned-" N'oenar spoke without thought, and immediately felt like biting his tongue. The woman's wild eyes grew crazed and she backed away.
"I won't go quietly!"
"What are you talking ab-" Ayliana didn't finish her sentence – the woman whipped out her saber, lit it, and a blade as red as blood hummed in the air. He jumped out of the way as the blade came down next to him, splitting a thick root clean through. His blade appeared in his hand as if by magic, and with a shout he swung it with both hands, the fabric-covered hilt offering a good grip when the two blades crashed together.
"You left off a word," the woman hissed at him over the electrical clash of their sabers. "You haven't turned yet."
"I'll never-" He shoved her backwards, hard, and she fell back a step, bringing her blade around to meet both his and Ayliana's. Her foot shot out viciously, knocking Ayliana to the ground and then ducking under his swipe and pushing him backwards. He flew back a few feet, landing hard on a root, dazed for a split second. His shoulder blossomed with pain, but he pushed it back to the far recesses of his mind as he struggled to his feet. She had a strength borne of insanity and anger, emotion, and N'oenar felt a prickle of fear run down his spine.
Then, as the woman's snarling face turned to Ayliana, the fear turned to anger. With a feral shout, he leapt up and brought his blade around, knocking hers away from its arc before Ayliana could even raise her saber.
"Yes, let the ice melt, Jedi," came the words, forced through gritted teeth. Anger, and a dark cloud of fear, began to grow in him as he opened himself up to the Force… there was something more there… something more… power… he reached for it…
Ice gives way before flame.
Fear, fear that was a cold slash of pain through his heart, hit him as his mind finally matched her words to those he had heard too many times before. From an old woman's lips. From his Master's lips, in the shallow comfort of dreams.
Ice…
He faltered, and as he hesitated he saw the woman's snarl slide into a smile. She came at him again, driven by some dark power, and he tried to whip his saber back into position, but he knew it was too late…
Then Ayliana's blade flew in front of him, an arcing green glow that brought him out of his paralysis. Gritting his teeth, he firmly kept hold of the Force, made it do his bidding. He flowed, along with Ayliana, and their joint attack – synchronized by the Force itself – served to push the woman back. One quick move by N'oenar and she fell heavily to the ground, her saber falling beside her, beyond the reach of her fingers. Ayliana kicked it aside, far into the trees, and they both turned back to the woman.
"Who are you?" N'oenar waited, then, seeing the woman's wide eyes, extinguished his saber. Perhaps she'd be less intimidated this way – and she was unarmed, after all. "What is your name?"
The woman's eyes darted between him and Ayliana, and she licked her lips. Shifting on the ground to get more comfortable, she shook her head. "You won't know it anyway. It doesn't mean anything. I'm a shadow."
Ayliana glanced at him and he could feel her thoughts. The woman was insane, and they should simply contact the authorities. He knew it made sense, and yet, something she had said had earned his curiosity.
Clearing his throat, he looked back at the woman. She shifted again as he spoke. "Tell us. What did you mean by ice-"
A loud thunk interrupted him and N'oenar stepped back in shock when he saw the hilt of a dagger protruding from the woman's throat. She opened her mouth, more shock than pain, and then lay still.
Ayliana spoke first. "Why?"
N'oenar looked up from the dead woman and saw Kerenne walk coolly over and nudge the body with her foot. "Why did you kill her, Kerenne? I was-"
"I didn't kill her. She killed herself when she decided to pull out this knife." Kerenne bent down, pulling the woman's hand out so they could see the wickedly serrated blade. "It's for throwing." Casually, she pulled the knife from the dead woman's limp grip and hefted it in her hand, grunting in satisfaction as she did so. "Nicely balanced."
"But we didn't sense-" N'oenar stopped, Master Yoda's voice from his dream replaying in his mind. Hard to see, the Dark Side is.
His suspicions were confirmed by Ayliana. "She used the Dark Side. It must have clouded our senses."
"Well," Kerenne said, pocketing the knife and pulling her own from the woman's throat. "I came a minute or so ago – they found Iliera, by the way. She was up in some tree or something. Anyway, from what I saw, whatever it was she was using didn't cloud your senses too much. You'd probably have deflected it in the air, anyway."
"Probably," Ayliana agreed, an odd tone in her voice.
N'oenar wasn't so certain, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Kerenne continued to search the woman's cloak pockets and he shifted his feet, uncomfortable. "Do you really have to-" Suddenly, she tossed an object at him and he caught it, surprised to find himself staring at the dark screen of a datapad. "What's this?"
"You were questioning her. There's probably something on there to answer whatever you wanted to know."
He looked over at Ayliana, but she only shrugged.
"Not too likely," he muttered under his breath, but he pocketed it without protest. Perhaps they could at least learn the woman's name. But that could wait until later – when they were alone. He trusted Kerenne, but this was Jedi business.
--
Later that evening, after the elders had returned to their home, the smaller group relaxed around a couple of holochess tables. It appeared that Kylia came by her skills honestly, as he was summarily beaten by each of her cousins that played. As the competition continued without him, he went to sit by Kerenne at the far end of the room.
"You're out early, too, eh?"
He laughed. "I'm just glad I didn't have to play Iliera. It'd be a bit too much of a blow to my confidence of I was beaten by someone her age. How old is she, anyway?"
"Four, I think." Kerenne grinned. "Zehrid says she reminds him of me, when I was her age."
"I don't doubt it," he said, wincing as he moved his shoulder wrong. His fall earlier that day had injured him more than he'd initially thought, and the lingering pain in his upper arm had continued to grow more intense as the evening wore on.
Kerenne's keen eyes noticed his discomfort, and she frowned. "What's wrong? Did that blade get you after all?"
He shook his head. "No. Nothing that noble. She Force-pushed me, and I fell on a root. On my arm." Idly, he wondered if he should interrupt the game to ask for some of the bacta ointment, but he didn't want to be a bother. It wasn't that bad, after all.
"Come on. I know where some bacta ointment is." Kerenne stood and motioned him to follow her. With a glance at the competition – which was growing more intense, to judge by the fierce attention the others were showing to the two tables – he trailed along after her.
The house was large and open, a testament to the love of family and gathering that the Noor family held dear. One sitting room melded into another, and Kerenne imperiously gestured him to sit in the one closest to the kitchen area. With a shrug – that made him wince again – he obeyed.
She returned quickly with some ointment and sat in front of him. "Right. We've done this before. Now, your arm?" With a grin, he rolled up his sleeve and held it out. She let out a low whistle. "That's quite a blow, there."
He looked down, finally noticing that his arm wasn't just bruised, but the skin had broken open where he'd landed on the sharper edge of the root. "It looks a lot worse than it feels, really."
"That's usually the way of it," Kerenne said as she smeared some of the bacta on his arm. "Something completely unimpressive-looking hurts like you're going to explode, and the wicked marks that other people fawn all over are barely worth your notice."
"True." He felt a bit uncomfortable, but tried not to let it show. Once she was done, he pulled his sleeve back down with a sigh of relief.
With a teasing glance at him, she laughed. "If this were one of those awful HoloNet romance programs that Lysira's addicted to, you'd be wearing much less." Luckily, her attention was on the jar of bacta ointment as she replaced the lid, so she didn't notice his flush. Still, he had to laugh. He'd caught some of those programs while at Lysira's, and they had been so ridiculous that he'd initially thought them to be some sort of comedy. There was a certain formula, that was certain.
He grinned. "And it'd be a chest injury, of course." He relaxed, pleased that he'd been able to keep the light banter going. It wasn't something he was that used to, at least not with these types of subjects, but it seemed common enough among normal people.
She winked at him. "Or a hip injury."
Despite himself, he flushed, and shook his head when she laughed. "Do you women take classes on this?"
"On what?"
"Putting men off-balance."
She chuckled. "No. It's natural talent, only." She winked again and stood. "Come on, let's get back."
"You go ahead, I'm going to go to bed, I think. I don't want to risk being challenged to a game by Iliera. Talk about off-balance." They both laughed, and he stood, catching sight of Ayliana in the doorway, wearing a very odd expression.
"Game over already?" Kerenne asked as she passed by the other woman. Ayliana nodded, and then glanced at N'oenar.
"I was tired. I'm heading to bed, I think."
"Good timing. I am, too." N'oenar suppressed a yawn. "Good night, Kerenne. And thanks."
"Any time."
--
He walked the corridors of the Jedi Temple, cloak billowing around him, and beings fled before him. He was power personified. None could touch him, none could face him. Looking down, he frowned when he saw the blue of his saber, and then his eyes widened as the color slowly changed… as it slowly turned a deep red. He gasped, stopping in his tracks. Frantically, he tried to drop the saber, but it wouldn't leave his hand. He brought his other hand around, pulling at the fingers, almost sobbing when they would not budge….
Then the red saber was gone, the corridor was gone, and he stood in the Council chamber, his Master before him.
"You have tied a line to the bantha, but you do not lead it yet."
"Master Dannew? What… what do these dreams mea-"
But his Master continued before he could finish his question. "You are the Keeper of the Knowledge. You will do what you must, to protect that which is most precious. She is the Keeper of the Faith. She will ensure you do not blaze, to protect that which is most precious."
The horror of the last vision was still on his mind and, though he heard the words clearly, he couldn't concentrate on them. Another question came to his lips, one that had blazed in his mind for days now, and he didn't bother to suppress it. Even if he wasn't sure he was ready for the answer. "Is this real? Are you real?"
Master Dannew was silent. N'oenar waited patiently for some time, but finally he blurted out, "Well?"
"I am as real as you believe me to be, N'oenar."
"That's not an answer."
"It is the only answer I can offer. Remember Vaapad."
"But-"
"Hide. Live."
And then he opened his eyes, and stared blindly into the darkness. Sleep did not come again.
--
The next morning, Ayliana came to his room early. She didn’t appear surprised to see him awake and already dressed.
"The ship should be ready later today."
N'oenar nodded, standing from his bed, where he'd been kneeling as he sought a meditative state. He hadn't been successful – too many thoughts and ideas swamped his mind, and the exercises to clear it seemed to be beyond him at the moment.
"You dreamed again last night." It was statement, not question. Slowly, he nodded, and Ayliana didn't pause a beat before she asked, "What was it, this time? Can you tell me?"
He couldn't bring himself to tell her of the vision he'd had of himself, of his saber turning. He didn't want to think about what that could portend. "I just… I spoke with Master Dannew again. He said I had tied a line to the bantha, but didn't lead it yet. And that he was as real as I believed him to be." N'oenar frowned, replaying the scene in his mind. "He called me the Keeper of the Knowledge. And he called you, at least I think he was talking about you, he called you the-"
"Keeper of the Faith." When he stared at her, stunned, she returned his gaze levelly. "You're not the only one who dreamed, last night." They stared at each other for a few heartbeats before she looked away, staring out of the window at the slowly lightening gray sky. "What else did you talk about?"
"Are you sure you don't know anything more about Vaapad?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Ayliana sent him a piercing look, remaining silent for a moment. Finally, she said, "I'm sure of one thing – we need to get to Roon."
"To the archives."
"Exactly."