Jedi Apprentice 4: The Mark of the Crown (звёздные войны) Read online

  The hills rose before him on the third day. They were rugged and steep, climbing through dense forests. Occasionally he would come to a clearing and be met with the eerie sight of a group of large standing stones. The harsh beauty of the land grew as he traveled higher. The short days ended in sunsets that turned the sky to blazing colors. Then the three moons rose, casting a silvery glow over the pate rocks and twisted trees.

  His comlink no longer worked. Qui-Gon hoped that Obi-Wan would not get into trouble back at the palace. He was anxious to find Elan, anxious to get back to Galu. He reached the summit of the first range of hills. Snow dotted the peaks.

  The only way through was a series of narrow passes. Qui-Gon felt exposed and vulnerable as he hiked through the narrow gorge. As he traveled, the sky darkened. The temperature dropped, and he unpacked his thermal cape from his survival pack. He could smell snow in the air. A storm was heading this way. He would have to find shelter soon.

  Perhaps it was because his eyes were constantly moving, searching for shelter.

  Perhaps it was because the eerie silence pressed on him, the dark sky like a lowering curtain. Because Qui-Gon might not have caught the flicker of movement to his left if every sense hadn't been on alert. It could have been no more than a shadow flickering on a rock, or the stir of a leaf. But the movement had caught his eye and prepared him just a few quick seconds before the attack came.

  The bandits zoomed down on landspeeders with mounted ion cannons on front and rear. Qui-Gon tossed his survival pack on the ground. He activated his lightsaber just in time to meet the first speeder. He dodged at the last possible second, sending the speeder careening into a tree. He was already turning to his left to slash at the driver of the second speeder. His blow connected, and the speeder lurched to the left, the driver hanging on as it barely missed the canyon wall. He righted it at the last second and zoomed back up to come around from the right.

  Qui-Gon dove for cover. He could use the fact that he was in such a narrow space. They would have to come at him one at a time. While the speeders maneuvered to come at him again, he found a boulder close to a grouping of massive standing stones. The canyon was to his back, the stones to his left. The bandits could only approach from the right.

  There were ten speeders… no, twelve — two more buzzed down from the sky. One came at him, ion cannons blasting. Chips of stone flew at him as he ducked and rolled, and stood again as the speeder zoomed past him. Qui-Gon used the momentum of his roll to slash at the driver from behind. He fell off the speeder, which zoomed out of control and crashed. The driver lay on the ground, unable to rise.

  The second speeder was down, and the next one was right on its heels, cannons firing. This driver was more skilled than the others. He zigzagged from side to side, the cannon fire missing Qui-Gon by centimeters as he took cover from standing stone to standing stone. He reached out for the Force. He needed it. He felt it pulse around him, grow stronger. He drew it in.

  He moved quickly, surprising the driver. He flattened himself on the ground as the driver overshot him, cannons shooting at the canyon wall now. He counted off seconds as the driver made a sharp turn to come back at him again. Qui-Gon left the cover of the stones and stood, lightsaber held high. This time, he aimed at the speeder's control panel. He struck a hard blow that he felt all the way up to his shoulder. The pain shot up his arm. The blow had cost him, but it disabled the speeder. The engine began to smoke, and the speeder tilted wildly.

  It hit the speeder bearing down on Qui-Gon. They both crashed to the canyon floor.

  Then Qui-Gon saw the speeder off to his left. The driver was either reckless or skilled — it remained to be seen. He was coming fast, straight at the standing stones. The gap between them was small, barely enough for a speeder to fit through. They were spaced at irregular intervals, making it almost impossible to navigate between them.

  Almost is the key word, Qui-Gon realized too late.

  The daring driver made a hard left, turning the speeder sideways. It zoomed through the small opening. He reversed, hovered in midair, then made a sharp turn to the right. He zoomed through the next opening, barely clearing it. Now he had a split second to make a clear shot at Qui-Gon.

  The Force helped Qui-Gon move, sending him leaping up on top of the boulder he had first used for cover. Another speeder was already bearing down on him. The driver was surprised by the sudden move, and made a hard turn to avoid Qui-Gon, even as his cannon boomed. At the same time, the driver midway through the standing stones fired his cannons. The two blasts collided in midair, sending an explosive charge that ricocheted off the boulder. The impact turned the boulder into a bomb, shattering it into large pieces of shrapnel that seemed to fly at Qui-Gon in slow motion.

  Qui-Gon was hit in the chest. Badly. The impact knocked him backward, his lightsaber leaving his grip and flying meters away from him. He lay on his back, stunned. He could hear the engines of the speeders roaring as the two vehicles maneuvered to take their next shot. His mind whirled from his fall. He groped for his lightsaber. He knew one thing: He was caught between the two blasting cannons, out in the open. He called on the Force and summoned his lightsaber to his hand.

  The higher whine of a new engine came to his ears. As his lightsaber flew to his grip, Qui-Gon saw another vehicle zoom into the tight spaces among the standing stones. He recognized it as a swoop, a speeder bike with a powerful engine. The controls were located on the handlebars and on the saddle. Only the most daring riders could master such a vehicle. Just a slight touch could send it careening out of control.

  He'd thought the first bandit was daring. The swoop driver bordered on reckless. But Qui-Gon read confidence and control in the way the vehicle moved, so fast it was almost a blur, banking right and left, hovering in midair and then reversing, zooming high and low to maneuver underneath the larger speeder.

  Qui-Gon pushed himself to his feet. The pain hit him, red and searing, and he realized he'd been hit by a chunk of boulder in the leg as well. He called on the Force to help his body to respond, his mind to clear. The speeder was bearing down on him again. He leaped to avoid cannon fire and somersaulted over the low-flying speeder, striking down as he did so at the control panel. He heard the engine sputter and die, and the speeder crashed.

  Qui-Gon hit the ground and dodged blaster fire from a pilot hurrying to help his comrade in the standing stones. But this driver was not so adept. He attempted to turn into the small gap and missed, hitting the stone and sending his craft wobbling as he struggled to right it.

  Qui-Gon got a good look at the driver of the swoop. He wore a black cloth headdress that wrapped around his face. Only his eyes were visible. His gloved hands gripped the handlebars of the swoop as he expertly twisted and turned through the stones, running the speeder down relentlessly. Yet Qui-Gon could tell that the swoop driver was careful to allow the speeder enough maneuverability so that it wouldn't crash amid the stones.

  Qui-Gon wondered what would happen to him once the swoop driver took care of the bandit on the speeder. The driver was surely a bandit, too. Qui-Gon would probably have his hands full again. The remaining speeders hovered, reluctant to help their comrade in the maze of standing stones, distracted from Qui-Gon for the moment. Qui-Gon stood, his lightsaber activated and at his side. He was ready.

  At last the speeder made it through the standing stones, the swoop now so close that it was almost touching the speeder's tailpipe. Suddenly, the swoop turned and flanked the speeder, driving it toward Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon was surprised by the maneuver but not unprepared. He leaped aside as ion cannons began to fire. He could feel that his leg wound made him clumsy. He stumbled slightly, then twisted to keep the speeder in view.

  The driver of the swoop kept one hand on the controls and picked up a bowcaster with the other. Effortlessly keeping the swoop on track flanking the speeder, he aimed and shot at the driver. The laser hit the driver in the wrist. Qui-Gon saw his mouth open in a howl that turned into a snarl.

&
nbsp; The distraction was all he needed. Qui-Gon summoned the Force. He needed one last burst. The Force propelled him in a flying leap to the top of one of the standing stones. He delivered a stunning blow to the surprised speeder driver as he zoomed past. The speeder crashed into the canyon floor.

  Qui-Gon leaped down from the exposed position. He heard the high whine of other swoops. He looked up and saw them like black insects against the gray sky, heading straight for him. There were at least twenty, and more were heading down the pass from the opposite direction. He would not be able to fight so many.

  Qui-Gon watched as the speeder bandits took off. Some of the swoops gave chase.

  Had he landed in the middle of a bandit war?

  The lead swoop flew toward him. Its repulsorlift engines kept it airborne a few inches off the ground as the driver leaped off, his bow-caster pointed straight at Qui-Gon. There was no use fighting. Qui-Gon deactivated his lightsaber and waited.

  "Who are you?" The voice was gruff. Qui-Gon was surprised at how young the bandit sounded.

  "Qui-Gon Jinn. I am a Jedi Knight sent to contact someone."

  The bowcaster was now pointed at his heart. "Who?" the bandit demanded.

  Qui-Gon decided that it would do no harm to let the bandits know his mission.

  Perhaps they could be bargained with. "The leader of the hill people," he said.

  "Elan."

  Slowly, the bandit unraveled the black headdress. A shower of silvery hair spilled over slender shoulders. A young woman stood before him. Her eyes were dark, the color of an evening sky, unusual for a Galacian. Her impatient gaze flicked over him, taking in everything about him and making it clear she was not impressed a bit.

  "Well, at least you did something right," she said. "You've found me."

  Elan tossed the headdress and bowcaster into the side compartment of her swoop.

  She dusted off her hands on her trousers. "The standing stones are sacred to the hill people," she told Qui-Gon. "You almost destroyed them."

  "I did not mean to."

  "You chose the field of battle," Elan said crisply.

  "I needed cover," Qui-Gon said.

  Snowflakes began to twinkle down from the sky. Elan cocked an eyebrow at him.

  "Ever hear of boulders? Trees?"

  Qui-Gon resisted the temptation to argue. She was deliberately putting him on the defensive. "Do you know the attackers?" he asked instead.

  She shrugged. "Bandits from the city outskirts. They make raids up here occasionally. There are always rumors in Galu that the hill people hoard gold.

  The greedy fools think it's true. I wish they'd leave us alone. We don't bother them." She gazed at him stonily. "Who sent you to find me, and why?"

  "Queen Veda sent me," Qui-Gon said.

  She waved a dismissive hand. "Then go back to Galu. I don't recognize her authority."

  "Don't you want to know what she wants?"

  Elan crossed to the swoop and swung a leg over the saddle. "Something about the election, I'm sure. It's no concern of mine." She pointed back the way Qui-Gon had come. "The way back is that way. Don't stay in the hills. You'll be sorry if you do."

  He didn't know if she was threatening him, or warning him against other bandit attacks. Another swoop flew toward them and stopped, hovering in the air. A tall young man with bluish skin gave Qui-Gon a quick glance, then turned to Elan.

  "Bad storm coming."

  "I know, Dana," Elan said, casting a worried eye at the sky. "When they come in, they come in hard."

  As if to illustrate her words, the snowfall suddenly began. The flakes were like hard crystals, peppering Qui-Gon's exposed skin. He leaned over to retrieve the survival pack he'd dropped when the fight began. The pain cut him to the quick, and he let out an involuntary hiss.

  "He's wounded," Dana said.

  Elan frowned, annoyed. "I can't send you back, I suppose. Wounded, with this storm. You'd never survive. And night falls quickly in the mountains."

  Qui-Gon waited. His wounds hurt him. But they would heal. Now it appeared that he was lucky to have them. Elan's conscience wouldn't allow her to send him on alone.

  "One night," she warned him. "That's all. Now climb up behind me. And don't fall off. I don't want to have to rescue you again."

  The hill people weren't overly friendly, but they were kind. Their encampment was made up of white domes of various sizes constructed out of a flexible material that was bolted to struts. Inside his small dome, Qui-Gon found every comfort and convenience — thick carpets and quilts, a glowing heater, a small kitchen and bath, even a datapad for his personal use.

  Dana told him that a healer would come to dress his wounds. Qui-Gon did the best he could himself, but he could not reach the gash he'd received on his back when he fell. He slipped out of his tunic and waited for the healer to arrive.

  Even though the storm howled outside, the dome felt solid and warm.

  There was a knock on the dome door, and he called out for the person to enter.

  Elan ducked through the doorway, carrying a small bag. She shut it quickly behind her to keep out the wind and snow. "Good, you're ready," she said.

  "You're the healer?" Qui-Gon asked, surprised.

  She nodded as she set out vials of ointment and rolls of bandages. When she looked at him, her blunt gaze was challenging. "Surprised? I'm not the healing type, is that it?"

  "No, that's not it," Qui-Gon answered. "I have just never known a healer who could pilot a swoop like that."

  A reluctant grin tugged at her mouth. "All right, let's see what we have here."

  She inspected his wounds and dabbed more ointment on one, then dressed it. "You did a good job."

  "Jedi are trained as healers, too," Qui-Gon said. "I can't reach the one on my back."

  "Turn around."

  Qui-Gon felt the coolness as she dabbed salve on his wound. The salve soothed the burning. "Thank you for such comfortable quarters," he said.

  "We do not live like barbarians, no matter what the city people think," Elan answered. She unrolled a bandage.

  "I didn't think you did," Qui-Gon said. "And it has been my experience on many worlds that ignorance breeds fear. The fearful make up stories about what they fear."

  "Yes," Elan said coolly. "The city people are ignorant and fearful. I agree. So why would I want to live among them?"

  Qui-Gon tried to curb his exasperation. Talking with Elan was like trying to catch a drifting snowflake. Whatever he said, she found a way to make his meaning disappear.

  "So that is why you won't participate in the elections?" Qui-Gon asked. "The support of the hill people could make a difference to the right candidate."

  "And who is the right candidate?" Elan asked. She still worked on the bandage on his back, so he couldn't see her face. He could only feel her cool, expert fingers and occasionally the brush of her hair against his skin. "Deca Brun, who shouts slogans and murmurs promises? Wila Prammi, who has been a slave to the royal system and now talks of democracy? That young fool, Prince Beju? No thank you, Jedi. I don't trust the elections, I don't trust the Queen, and I don't trust the candidates. I am happy where I am." She patted the bandage in place, then rose. "I'm finished."

  Qui-Gon turned to face her. "Thank you. You feel no loyalty to Gala?"

  She replaced the vials and bandages in her bag with quick motions. "I feel loyalty to my own people. I can trust them."

  "What about your world?" Qui-Gon asked, easing back into his tunic. "Gala is about to undergo a great change. A good change. Shouldn't the hill people be part of it?"

  Elan picked up her bag. She turned to him impatiently. "Is that why the Queen sent you? To ask for my support for her son?"

  "No," Qui-Gon said quietly. He watched her face carefully. "She sent me to tell you that Prince Beju is not King Cana's true heir."

  "And why should she tell me this?" Elan demanded. "And why should I care?"

  "Because you are the heir," Qui-Gon said. "You are King Cana'
s daughter."

  Elan blinked. He saw the shock on her face, and saw how she was trying to control it.

  "What lies are these?" she asked, taking a step backward. "Why did you come here?"

  "Lies or truth, perhaps only you can discover," Qui-Gon said. "I only say what has been told to me, and what I've come to believe. Queen Veda recently discovered that King Cana had a child before he married her. That child is you.

  The Queen says she wants you to know your birthright."

  "This is a trick," Elan said flatly. "A trick to lure me back to the city. She wants to imprison me, scatter the hill people-"