Дэйв Волвертон: Jedi Apprentice 1: The Rising Force

Patience, he told himself over and over again. We must have patience. That was the unwritten part of the Jedi Code. Yet it was hard to be patient when so many lives hung in the balance.

His fingers were chafed and bleeding. Nearby, lightning split the sky and thunder snarled. The sky was dark and lowering. Wind gusted and whistled among the stones.

He felt terribly exposed. He was a big man, a large target for the draigons. A flash of lightning could expose his position — or even knock him to his death.

He stopped for a long moment, panting. Rain poured down his forehead and made his clothes feel heavy. He felt half-frozen, and still weak from the wounds the pirate had dealt. He glanced toward the ocean. Not far off, a gleaming draigon dropped like a blaster bolt toward the sea, its wings folded.

It plunged into the pounding surf, then flapped its wings. As it rose from the white-capped waves, a huge glittering fish wriggled in its mouth.

Thankfully, the draigon had not seen him. Or if it had, it did not care for human flesh. Perhaps the draigons had never seen animals on land, and did not think to hunt there.

Qui-Gon did not dare looked down. Up above him a few hundred meters, he could see a faint mist vented from a crevice blowing wildly in the wind. It would take the sharp eye of someone who knew what they were looking for, but the mist was definitely tinted with yellow.

The dactyl would be there.

The travel was hard. There were no trails. Not a rock on this planet had ever been crushed underfoot. If he stepped on a rock, it was likely to twist beneath him. Even if it didn’t turn, they felt sharp and painful beneath his feet. The only plants he found were small gray lichens that crusted over everything. When they were dry, walking on them was like walking on carpet. But once the morning rains began to fall, the lichens turned slick.

Though he could feel the Force guiding him to the dactyl, it still seemed an almost impossible task.

Lightning sizzled through the air. Thunder shook the stone beneath his fingertips. Wind gusted at his back. Qui-Gon clung to the face of the rock wall. His shoulder throbbed.

Not much farther, he told himself.

There was a flash just above his head. Splinters of rock stung his cheek.

For half a moment, he thought that a lightning bolt had nearly pierced him. But he realized that it was too small.

A blaster. Someone had shot at him!

Qui-Gon craned his neck, and tried to look down. He spotted them immediately in the rocks below. It was difficult for a Hutt to hide. It was Grelb, Jemba’s errand boy. He slithered along, flanked by several Whiphids. They raised heavy blaster rifles and fired again. The Hutt laughed merrily.

Blaster bolts exploded all around Qui-Gon.

His lightsaber was useless. There was nowhere to hide, no way to fight.

Painfully, Qui-Gon struggled upward.

Grelb the Hutt chortled in delight. His plan had worked perfectly. He knew Qui-Gon would have to appear around the side of the mountain and make the last ascent straight up to the dactyl. All he had to do was find a position, and wait.

At first, he’d been afraid of the draigons, and he’d kept still, hoping to be mistaken for a rock. But gradually, Grelb had grown comfortable. The draigons were probably fish-eaters, nothing more.

He didn’t fear their teeth — but the rough stones of this world threatened to tear through even Grelb’s thick hide. The Hutt wanted nothing more that to slither carefully back to the ship.

But right now he had a job to do: kill the Jedi.

It was going to be a pleasure.

The Jedi was trapped on the cliff face above, squirming up toward the ledge where the dactyl was hidden. Qui-Gon had no blaster to shoot back with. He was a big target. It looked as if this would be an easy kill.

So Grelb told his cronies, “Take your time. Have some fun.”

His Whiphids whimpered in delight. They loved to torment helpless creatures. They kept up a steady barrage of fire, purposely missing the Jedi with every shot. They hit just close enough to try to terrify the Jedi.

Grelb chortled, “Look at him squirm, boys! Reminds me of that puffer I ate for dinner last night!”

But the truth was, the Jedi did not squirm. He didn’t cringe, or try to scramble away. His pace didn’t change at all. Slowly, methodically, he climbed the cliff face, even as rock splintered millimeters from his face.

The Whiphids grew angry. “Is he blind?” one asked in a complaining tone. “This is no fun at all.”

Grelb frowned. He did not want the Whiphids to complain. He needed their loyalty. “How about a bet?” he suggested. “See who can blow off his boot.”

“Excellent!” the first Whiphid cried. “Bet you five I can knock off his boot in one shot!”

“In one shot?” his companion hooted. And the bet was on.

To sweeten the deal, Grelb bet against the Whiphid at two-to-one odds. Eagerly, he watched the Jedi make his steady progress up the cliff. The two Whiphids who made the bet brought their guns to rest on their shoulders. He waited breathlessly for the first Whiphid to take his shot. Lightning flashed, thunder roared.

There was a blast of wind at Grelb’s back.

The Jedi had his right foot on a tiny ledge. He reached out for a handhold above. He was precariously balanced. One shot in the foot would probably bring him down.

“Shoot already!” Grelb shouted.

Behind him, there was a strange noise. Something like an urp.

Grelb turned to look at the Whiphid marksman, and there standing hugely at Grelb’s back was a draigon. It had landed so silently, he had not heard it.

It was the first he’d seen up close. The draigon had tiny silver scales over all of its body, and huge yellow eyes like those on a fish. It had no front legs, only a single huge claw on each wing. And its mouth had the strangest teeth — like enormous needles that arced down from its gums. The monster vaguely reminded him of an Ithorian razor shark.

The huge reptile had half of the Whiphid marksman in its mouth.

“Aaagh!” Grelb screamed as he slithered towards the nearest crevice.

The Whiphids all turned and began to fire at the draigon.

Qui-Gon pulled himself up the last three meters, then wedged himself into the small cave. There, he paused, panting for a long moment, clutching his sore right arm. The acrid scent of sulfur and ammonia assaulted him. He peered farther inside the cave. The dactyl crystals had been thrown on the smooth floor of the cave, and were giving off a dull yellowish glow.

Th blaster fire was coming fast as ever. The guns made a steady boom boom boom. But the shots were no longer directed at him. Instead, the Whiphids had hidden in the rocks, firing at draigons. The blaster fire attracted them by the score, and draigons roared in the sky, flocking down from the cliffs. Several of the huge beasts had collasped around the Whiphids, but others were wheeling from the skies in a feeding frenzy.

Qui-Gon looked down from the cliff, watching the struggle. He had traveled all morning without attracting the attention of a draigon. Now, by shooting their blasters, the stupid Whiphids were drawing them in droves.

Draigons screamed, a great shrieking cry, and dove out of the clouds on leathery silver wings. They soared over the stones and swiveled their heads. Teeth gleamed under the strobe of lightning flashes.

The Whiphids scattered and tried to hide beneath huge slabs of stone. One Whiphid roared in terror as a draigon dropped from the sky and plucked it from its hiding place.

Qui-Gon used the diversion to load the dactyl into the cloth sack he had brought. For several moments the Whiphids fought and screamed and died as dozens and dozens of the huge draigons plummeted toward them.