Crucible: Star Wars Page 33

  The Qrephs landed four paces in front of him, their huge eyes growing even larger, their small chins dropping. They had underestimated his strength, Luke guessed. They had expected him to fall quickly, and he had surprised them. Craitheus drew his arms back, readying another attack.

  And then Leia was leaping in behind the Columi, one hand holding her lightsaber and the other hitting Craitheus with a wave of energy so fierce it became a yellow torrent of flame. Marvid stumbled away from his brother in shock, giving Luke the half second he needed to turn his palm forward and loose his own blast of golden energy.

  Marvid swung his hand over to block, and the two streams of opposing energy met. The Columi’s flesh melted into smoke and his bones dissolved into ashes, and Luke glimpsed a shadow tumbling away on the shock wave. Then a searing agony washed over him as the wave of Force energy took him, too—at once burning his body and healing it, devouring him and renewing him.

  Luke hung in that last moment, caught between death and life, for an eternity. He was at the end of his life and at its beginning, drowning in agony and filled with bliss, and he began to see that this was the essential nature of the Force. The Force was life, and life was growth, and nothing grew that did not change.

  And change was destruction.

  That was why the dark side existed. Life bore death, death nourished life, destruction came before rejuvenation. And pain came before healing. The dark side was as necessary to life as the light side was. Without it, verdant worlds would stagnate, galactic empires would rule forever.

  Luke saw all that and more, saw that conflict was as necessary to progress as was harmony, that suffering was as essential to wisdom as was joy. Perhaps there was no pure good, no absolute evil. There was only life, only change and growth, suffering and joy … death and rebirth.

  There was only the Force.

  Han saw Luke and Leia come together, trapping the Qrephs between them, no more than twenty paces from the shimmering gate. He heard the swishing roar of the Force’s power being loosed, and then he saw only light—a stabbing golden brilliance that made his eyes hurt and his ears ring. It flashed through him in a blast of searing heat that stole his breath and filled his entire body with a fiery ache.

  Then the spire dropped, its severed base striking the ground with a deafening bang. The dark column stood swaying for a moment, then finally toppled, crashing down so hard it made the ground jump and thunder boil through the air.

  A curtain of dust billowed up to roll across the desert, and Han found himself running through a gray haze, lost and alone and yelling for Leia.

  Twenty-six

  As the dust settled from the air, the desert became a forest of tree ferns and giant club mosses. Where the spire had fallen, a hole in the haze opened into a blue liquid sky. It appeared watery and still, and Han felt as though he were looking up through the bottom of a lake. He could see a tall mountain rising along one shore, and every once in a while he thought he saw a face ripple past, as huge as a cloud.

  Then the haze closed in again, and Han remained alone. He began to rush through the fungi forest, calling for his lost wife and his best friend, searching for the spot where they vanished—where they had no doubt sacrificed themselves to stop yet another evil from entering the galaxy.

  And for what?

  Luke and Leia had spent their entire lives fighting why? To defend a government that had turned its back on the Jedi Order? To bring peace to a galaxy that valued it too little and would never have it? Han shook his head.

  No.

  Luke and Leia had devoted their lives to one thing: fighting the power of the dark side. It was that simple. Wherever the dark side rose, whenever the Sith had dared show themselves—there Luke and Leia had rushed, never hesitating, never flinching. It had been their destiny to shepherd the galaxy into a new era of hope, and not once had they shrunk from that calling.

  Now that destiny would pass to someone else.

  Because Luke and Leia were gone. Han understood that. They had become one with the Force, and Han expected that he would be joining them soon.

  He wasn’t sad or frightened, or even sorry. He just wanted to hold Leia’s hand one more time, to look into her brown eyes and see her smile again.

  Then it occurred to Han that he might be dead already. Or dead again. Or still dead. In this place, it was hard to know.

  He stopped walking and turned in a circle, searching for some sign of Leia or Luke—for some hint that he would not spend eternity without them.

  He saw nothing but green fronds and ivory pillars streaked with brown, smelled nothing but the muskiness of the forest, heard nothing but the shadows whispering around him, offering to help, aching to devour him.

  Han dropped to his knees. “Ah, Leia,” he said. “I wish I could have gone with you.”

  Leia drifted in agony and ecstasy, nowhere and everywhere, an amorphous mass of self-awareness bound together by will and desire. She saw her body below, a whirling ball of golden radiance still tumbling across the desert, so hot that, in its wake, it left a trail of flaming thorn brush.

  Her enemies—she could no longer recall their names—had disintegrated into smoke and ash. But her brother’s body stood about twenty meters from her own, still reeling and so bright she could barely look at him.

  Leia could not recall his name, either. She knew she should remember, but she could feel herself dissolving into the Force, becoming one with it. And in this strange place, as she vanished, so did her past, and her treasured memories grew impossible to hold.

  That frightened her. It shouldn’t have, she knew. Becoming one with the Force was the fate of every Jedi who served it. But she could not help feeling there was something she had left undone—something that should not be forgotten. Someone she could not abandon. Not yet.

  But who?

  She was finding it difficult to bind her own essence together, to recall even her own identity, let alone someone else’s.

  Then a familiar voice spoke her name, and she remembered.

  Han.

  A sudden silence fell over the forest, and Han saw the shadows flee through the undergrowth. There was a golden radiance ahead, shining through fungi and ferns, changing them before his eyes into the neatly ordered trees of a Coruscanti strolling wood.

  “Leia?” Han rose and started forward. “Leia?”

  And then he saw her, a golden glowing figure running down the path with outstretched arms, so radiant and bright it hurt his eyes to look upon her. He met her halfway and swept her up into a flying hug. Leia kissed him hard on the lips, and he felt the Force flowing into him, filling him with warmth and life and joy.

  They held the kiss for an instant, or perhaps it was a day, then Han set her feet on the ground and stepped back to look at her. She was Leia—but not as he had last seen her. She was the Leia of their youth, brown eyes shining with a fervor not yet tempered by the loss of her two sons and the deaths of more close friends than Han could bear to recall.

  After a moment, the joy in Leia’s face changed to concern. “Han, what happened to you?” she asked. “Was it the carbon-freezing?”

  “Carbon-freezing? What carbon-freezing?”

  “You don’t remember?” Leia asked. “Vader laid a trap on Cloud City. He froze you in carbonite—”

  “And you told me you loved me,” Han finished. “How could I forget?”

  Leia’s only reply was a look of confusion.

  “You remember that, right?” Han was getting worried. “You said it: I love you.”

  “Of course I remember,” Leia said. “But that’s the last thing I remember … and now you look so old. I didn’t think carbon-freezing did that to people.”

  Han would have laughed if he hadn’t been so frightened. “It’s not the carbon-freezing, sweetheart.”

  He didn’t understand what had happened to Leia’s memory—to her—but there wasn’t much about this place that he did understand. He was just going to have to work with it and hope f
or the best.

  “For a while,” Han continued, “I was a wall decoration hanging in Jabba’s palace. Then you rescued me. Do you remember that?”

  “Yes.” A gleam of anger came to Leia’s eyes. “Jabba put me in that blasted slave outfit, and I strangled him with my own chain. And you knocked Boba Fett into the sarlacc pit. Is that right?”

  Han grinned. “Right.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “Well, the emperor lured us into an ambush on Endor,” Han said, watching in delight as every word brought a new glimmer of recognition to her eyes. “But we turned that around, remember? In the end, it was Palpatine who died.”

  “And there was a celebration,” Leia recalled. “With Ewoks—hundreds of them.”

  “Right again,” Han said.

  He went on to tell her about everything they had done together—founding the New Republic and defeating the remnants of the Empire for good, getting married and having babies, the decision to raise their children as Jedi. As he spoke, the young Leia of his past began to mature before his eyes, growing ever more beautiful but also wiser, and even more open and compassionate.

  Then Han reached the era of the alien Yuuzhan Vong invasion of the galaxy. He paused, uncertain that he wanted to put Leia through the torment of those years again. But it was already too late. Her memories were flooding back without any prompting from him. He could only watch as the deaths of Chewbacca and Anakin etched her face with sorrow—and as the anguish of Jacen’s fall to the dark side stole the light from her eyes.

  When the sadness did not fade, Han took her hand. “Before Jacen became Darth Caedus, he gave us a granddaughter,” he prompted. “Her name is—”

  “Allana,” Leia finished. “She’s the heir to the Hapes Consortium, and she lives with her mother, Tenel Ka. But that feels almost like a dream to me.”

  “Allana is real,” Han assured her. “And she’s a great kid. What else do you remember?”

  Leia gave Han a wry smile, no doubt aware that he was trying to avoid lingering on the most painful parts of their shared life. “I remember the Lost Tribe of Sith and their invasion of Coruscant,” she said. “And I remember Jaina’s wedding.”

  Han smiled. Leia was coming back to him—even if he wasn’t quite sure what that meant in this place. “What about now?” he asked. “Do you remember where we are? And how we got here?”

  Leia’s eyes grew hard. “I remember, Han. Sarnus, the Blue Star, Base Prime,” she said. “I remember all of it.”

  Han was relieved. “What about the Qrephs?”

  “They’re the least of our problems,” Leia said. “They’re dead.”

  Han wanted to believe her, but after seeing the Columi return before, he didn’t feel like taking chances. “You sure? Because they’ve been pretty hard to kill.”

  Leia paused and seemed to shudder a bit but nodded. “I’m sure. The Qrephs are gone—just like I would have been, if you hadn’t called me back so quickly.”

  Han frowned. “So quickly?” He didn’t understand. “Leia, you were gone so long I thought I had lost you for good.”

  Leia looked confused. “Han, I didn’t go anywhere. I fought the Qrephs, then I came straight back, as soon as I heard you call.”

  Han shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he said. “You were gone … and it felt like I was looking for you forever.”

  Leia glanced around the strolling wood, her eyes widening as though she was seeing their surroundings for the first time. She took Han’s hand, and her voice grew somber.

  “Han, am I dead?” she asked. “Are we dead?”

  Han wasn’t sure how to answer.

  For one thing, he didn’t know. And if it hadn’t occurred to Leia that she might be dead before now, he didn’t want to break the news in the wrong way. She might dissolve into the Force right there. Or she might vanish into … well, wherever she went last time and doom him to an eternity of searching.

  “Han?” Leia’s voice had grown urgent. “I don’t like it when you spend that much time thinking. It’s dangerous.”

  “Take it easy, will you?” Han scratched his head for a moment. “All I know is, you vanished in a big golden flash—at least that’s what I saw. It looked like someone set off a baradium bomb.”

  Leia considered this, then said, “So we’re dead.”

  “Maybe we’re dead,” Han corrected.

  “Probably.” Leia glanced around the garden again, and Han hoped she might be thinking that it wasn’t such a bad place to spend eternity together. Instead, she asked, “What about Luke? Did he make it?”

  No sooner had she spoken Luke’s name than a luminous sphere appeared in the strolling wood. As it approached them, it began to resolve into the shape of a man.

  “I’m here,” Luke said, joining them.

  Unlike Leia when she returned, he actually looked a little older than before the explosion, and perhaps a bit wiser and more at peace with himself. The wounds in his throat had closed, and Han saw no sign of the freakish eyes that had been inside the holes earlier. Recalling his own deformities, he glanced down and was relieved to discover that the membrane covering his belly wound looked almost like burned skin now, and his injured leg was no longer quite so hairy.

  When neither Solo was quick to respond, Luke asked, “Is this a private party or something?”

  “Sorry,” Han said, returning his gaze to Luke. “We were hoping you made it out of here, that’s all. Leia thinks we’re dead.”

  Leia cocked her luminous brow. “And you don’t?”

  Han shrugged, then shot her one of his best lopsided grins. “Hey, as long as we’re together—”

  “We aren’t the ones who died,” Luke interrupted. “That was the Qrephs.”

  Han waited for an explanation. When none came, he finally asked, “Says who?”

  Luke smiled. “I do. When Leia and I destroyed the Qrephs’ bodies, we set their shadows adrift,” he said. “And without living bodies, the Qrephs can’t invite the shadows to return. Trust me, the galaxy is rid of Marvid and Craitheus Qreph—forever.”

  “I can buy that,” Leia said. “But what makes you so sure we are still alive?”

  Luke spread his hands. “To tell you the truth, I’m not a hundred percent certain,” he said. “But since we do have bodies, and Han seems to be returning to normal …”

  “The odds are on our side,” Han agreed. He glanced around the garden, searching for some hint of an exit portal. “At least until we starve to death—or go crazy in here.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Luke said. “Follow me.”

  Luke turned and started down the path. His bright figure drove the shadows deep into the woods as he passed.

  Han looked over at Leia, then asked, “You think he actually has a clue where he’s going?”

  Leia shrugged. “Who can say?” she asked. “But unless you have a plan—”

  “Are you kidding?” Han asked. “My plan is, follow the Grand Master.”

  Luke led them down a twisting path that seemed to turn back on itself repeatedly, crossing and recrossing identical intersections so many times that Han started to think they were lost. Still, the terrain did not change. The trees remained relatively small and neatly ordered, and the shadows continued to retreat ever deeper into the woods, until they no longer intruded at all.

  After they had been walking for a while, Luke’s pace began to slow, and he spoke in a tone that sounded more melancholy than relieved. “We’re almost there.”

  “Then don’t sound so glum about it,” Han said. “It’ll be good to get back.”

  “It will be good to leave here,” Luke allowed. “But we can never go back, not truly.”

  “No,” Leia agreed. She and Luke shared a knowing look, which vanished almost before Han caught it, then she added, “Not to the way things were.”

  “Whoa … guys.” Han didn’t like the turn the conversation was taking. “This place didn’t
change us that much.”

  “But it did change us,” Luke said. “If only because it opened our eyes to something that’s been happening for a while now.”

  “Opened our eyes to what?” Han demanded. “And if you say I’m getting old, someone’s going to get blasted.”

  Leia smiled. “It’s not about age, Han.” Her eyes filled with joy and sadness and contentment, with longing and acceptance. “It’s about stepping back for a while.”

  Han scowled. “Who needs to step back?”

  “I do,” Leia said. She took his hand. “We do. We’ve spent a lifetime battling to make the galaxy a better place. But life is about more than fighting, Han. There needs to be time for rest and love and happiness.”

  “Exactly,” Luke said. “Life is like the Force. It needs balance.”

  “The Force needs us to take a rest?” Han scoffed. “That’s what you’re telling me?”

  “More or less.” Luke paused and looked into the trees for a moment, then said, “Maybe there was a time we had to keep fighting because there were so few of us. But the Jedi Order is strong now, and we have to let others take the lead, so it can grow even stronger.”

  Han hesitated. “Well, I guess I could use a break, as long as it’s good for the Order.” He actually liked the idea of some downtime with Leia, but it also scared him. He turned to face her. “What if we get bored?”

  “We won’t.” Leia squeezed his hand, and the light in her eyes turned racy. “Trust me.”

  Han responded with an enthusiastic smirk. “In that case,” he said, “count me in.”

  “Hold on, you two,” Luke said, laughing. “Let me get us out of here first.”

  Luke led them a few steps farther, then stopped in the middle of the trail and turned to Han.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “You bet,” Han said. He looked around and saw nothing but more trees. “But, uh, ready for what?”

  “To go back,” Luke said. “This is it.”

  “The gate?” Leia asked.

  “Exactly,” Luke said. “Can’t you feel it?”