Legends of Darkover

Chapter 24

-oOo-

Qui-gon could have wept, if he wasn't fighting for his life.  Inculcare was trying to knock him off into the chasm after Danilo, and that cloud of Dark Force was hurtling closer.  The High Inquisitor obviously intended to wait until the last second before performing his own escape.

The two young people he'd tried to rescue were either dead or almost dead, and he'd failed them utterly.  With a savage cross of sabers, he knew he had to get Catriona out.  He Force-jumped and landed by her.  Inculcare came flying after him, but before the High Inquisitor could attack, Qui-gon half-caught up the leronis in his unbroken arm, and Folded Space.

The High Inquisitor cursed, then watched the approaching mass.  As a devotee of the Dark Side, he did not fear it quite so much as the Jedi.

“Are you indeed the one named?” said Inculcare calmly to the mass.  Despite Qui-gon's inexplicably clumsy saberplay, the Jedi Master had made him work up a sweat.

For a moment, nothing but hideous fury came from the cloud.  Inculcare tilted his head.  He recognized the ego-wound that propelled the violent energy.  -I can help you gain your revenge,- he sent.

-You are whole,- it replied.

Inculcare concentrated.  The voice definitely felt familiar, and he understood it to be the motivating consciousness behind Sicul Alton.  All along he'd doubted Alton was a living being.  Nonetheless, it had tried to deceive him, so it must be approached with caution. 

-I need a new body.  Mine is wounded, and must go into stasis for healing.  I will take yours.-

Something about this proposal did not suit Inculcare.  The Dark Voice wasn't trying to bribe him.  -What do you offer in return?- 

-Nothing.  You are already my property.  You are in my temple, inside my trap.-  The cloud flowed closer, filling the cavern from floor to ceiling. 

Inculcare frowned, measuring the distance.  He'd made note of Qui-gon's escape, and though Force Travel was somewhat tricky, he thought he could--

Too late, the High Inquisitor remembered.  He'd been severed from the Force by Qui-gon.  He'd forgotten this when merged with Sicul Alton.  Now that Alton was destroyed, the Force powers left to the High Inquisitor were barely functional.  The bond with the Dark Side would need weeks to properly repair itself. 

-You cannot take over a body like mine and expect my personality to fade,- warned the High Inquisitor.  -I dominate.  I always dominate.  You cannot do this without fading away yourself.-

-Indeed?  I already know all about your plans, your galaxy, and your personal weaknesses, Sith Lord.  The scientists you lost from your ship have become my tools.  They are my windows into your personality.-   

The Darkness sprang.  Inculcare tried to fend it off with his lightsaber, and for a second, the blows seemed to land and hurt something.  Then the weapon was sucked out of his hand, disappearing into the maw of the cloud. 

Choking, suffocating, the High Inquisitor was thrown about like a toy, the Darkness trying to twist itself into every orifice of his body.  Nonetheless, Inculcare's will resisted its mental push.  The Darkness seemed to grow angrier, and it beat him against the walls, flinging him again and again as if trying to pound the resistance out of him.

The rough rock cut gouges in his skin, and head-jarring, nauseating blows struck his face and skull.  He was leaving blood all over, first in drops and dribbles, then in spatters and splashes.  He grew dizzy from the endless motion.  He fought the pain with Sith discipline, and sank deeply into his own consciousness.

Inculcare had used this torture himself on helpless victims, but the choices he had now were between being battered to death, or succumbing, not a good pair of options.  With regret, he ceased to struggle. 

Instantly, the Darkness wormed eagerly inside him.  It flowed down into his mouth and nose like inserted rods, into his streaming eyes, his nose and sinuses, his ears, his pores.  He stopped breathing, feeling his lungs blowing up like a balloon under intolerable pressure, his eyes bulging and all the spaces inside his head full and heavy.  The Darkness sank through the breathing spots of his lungs with a thousand needle-like stabbings into his capillaries.  He could feel his blood pressure soaring, his heart racing as if to propel along the seizure of him, and every cell of his body seemed to bloat up under the invasion.  Finally, the process stopped.

And he lost that consciousness that made him Inculcare.  When he opened his eyes, he was another. 

-oOo-

Danilo fell into pitch darkness, the sight of Qui-gon's horrified face disappearing.  He prayed he'd hit water instead of rock, then wondered in the brief seconds of his fall if death by drowning would be worse than a bone-shattering impact.  Then his body slammed hard into something, knocking the wind out of him.  It tumbled him, confused him.  It was moving and spinning him. 

He'd hit water. 

Danilo kicked with his feet, for one crazy second glad his lungs were too stunned to breathe because his head was completely under water.  He opened his eyes, and could see nothing except blackness.  He didn't want to die like this, drowned underwater in some nameless cavern.  He struggled to rise to the surface.  Where was it?  He was too whirled about to tell.  He expected to double over from a bone-deep cold, the icy cave water chilling him in the next few seconds.  

He held his breath as long as he could, the underground river bearing him along.  He felt himself move in one direction, and guessed that must be the surface as his body tried to float.  He kicked in that direction, fighting his bound wrists, all feeling of his wounds banished as he fought for life. 

Light came.  He couldn't see anything except light, and blurriness.  He kicked ferociously towards it, still holding his breath.  He was a strong swimmer, so maybe--

He couldn't find the surface.  He strained his eyes in every direction.  All was still blurriness, and light.  A terrible ache built in his lungs, and they gave up.

He gasped hard, and breathed in lungful after lungful of air.  He'd found the surface.  He knew if he kept bobbing like this he'd inhale water and drown.  Instantly, he tipped his head back, drawing his feet up.  Float, he ordered his body, float.  It was the one way to save himself with his hands bound. 

For a long, panicky moment he stayed like that, feeling an odd lapping rim against his cheeks as he tried to get more air into his lungs.  Every nerve of him wanted to break out into full-blown, mindless panic.  But if he succumbed to that emotion, he would die.  He must find the shore.  Cautiously, he looked around.  It was like he was inside a ball of cotton, or a cloud.  Nothing could be seen except for haze.  All right, he could still swim, in a way.  He could kick with his feet.  He'd just have to guess where the shoreline was. 

For a few minutes, he kicked, wondering how far he had to go.  He discovered it when the top of his head slammed into a rock.

“OUCH!” he yelled.  He bobbed, letting the pain subside.  Then he took a fast, cautious peek.  He saw tall stalks of green weeds over his shoulder, and could have wept.  But how to get out?

He kicked more cautiously, until his skull nudged the shore again.  Then with a further kick and a fast lift, he had the back of his head on shore.  Now what?

He tried to lever his body up, using his head as he kicked, but that only jerked him back down into the water again.  Patiently, he worked his head back up on shore.  An idea came to him and he cautiously kicked sideways, pivoting his body until an elbow nudged the bank.  Then he pulled his bound wrists as far to one side as he could, and lifted the elbow up on the bank.  Leaning as much weight as he could on the elbow, he tried to lever his body from the water, grateful this was his good shoulder.  Still kicking hard, he felt the slight roll, and he strained with all his might.  Then he rolled over onto his face and was looking at weeds.  Insects startled up before his eyes. 

Half of his body was now out of the water.  Wild hope filled him and he began to worm along with his torso as he kicked hard.  He dug gouges with his chin to haul himself along, and seized grasses with his bound hands awkwardly pulled to one side.  Idly, he wondered why he wasn't hearing splashes.  He tried to draw his good leg up, and bounced his knee off the bank.  Lifting again, he made it on and sobbed with relief, knowing he was going to succeed.

One knee, then the other, cautious and careful, the wounded leg.  He was a telepath, he reminded himself.  He could call for help.  But where was everyone?  His spirits sagged as he remembered Catriona and Qui-gon.  Events had not been going well. 

His view was blocked by the tall weeds.  He needed to walk.  He rolled on his back again, and solved a mystery.  Everything was covered with fog.  The bloody sun had become a faint orange blob.  “Holy Bearer of Burdens,” he muttered.  No wonder he hadn't been able to see anything.  The weather was being troublesome. 

He sat up and pushed his good leg under his body.  Then he braced himself for the godawful pain he knew was going to hit when he tried to stand up.  Maybe the wound wasn't as bad as he thought.  The leg had held up under all that kicking in the water. 

He stood, and the pain was trivial.  Maybe it was what the Terrans call adrenal-something.  He'd feel worse later.  The ground before him sloped upwards, and he began to walk, while starting his emergency mental checklist.  Contact Regis with laran, then get to shelter so the Darkovan cold wouldn't finish him off in these wet clothes, get his handcuffs removed--

Danilo stopped.  For someone who'd just been in water, his clothes were strangely dry. In fact, he hadn't even been cold until he stepped out of the--

He looked back.  He was staring at fog, at rising grey vapors tinged with blue.  He swayed for a moment, running through his mental geography of notable bodies of water in the vicinity. 

“Holy Bearer of Burdens,” he said again, and eased away at a faster rate than he thought his wounded leg ought to be capable of.  In a second he was on top of the slope, safely far enough away for another look. 

He was staring at Lake Hali.  Danilo glanced down at himself.  Had he even been wet at all?  That certainly wasn't water.

Another panic took him, and for a moment all he wanted to do was scamper away.  Had anyone ever survived a fall into Lake Hali?  Not that he could recall.  He looked back again.  The answer had never been obvious before, but now it was.  He knew it with all the certainty of his telepathy. 

“It's laran,” he exclaimed.  “Laran!”  He remembered the warm, intrusive feeling of the lake as it surrounded his body.  He’d been in a pool of raw, insensate laran.  He’d never encountered laran before without a mind controlling it.  No wonder it was so hard to identify.

Bewildered, he wondered why he was the first person to realize this.  He extended his senses, and nothing about the lake felt evil, or even frightening.  It hadn't been like that before, with its menacing voices that whispered to himself and Catriona.  Was the alteration in the lake connected to Zandru's wounding?  Something about the lake had definitely changed. 

/Did it respond to my thoughts, and help bear me up and out?  Does it also respond to Zandru’s thoughts, or the other minds in his collection of matrices?  If so, no wonder the lake is dangerous./  He shook his head.  He needed to stop speculating and contact Regis.  Sitting on a boulder, he began to concentrate.

-Regis?  I am by the shores of Lake Hali.  Where are you?-

-DANILO!?-

The wild mental scream hit with a force that nearly knocked Danilo off his perch.  He smiled, feeling Regis' joy.  -Yes, it's me.  I've escaped.  Are you all right?  Were you hurt back in the fight by the tower?-

-I'm fine!  Where are you?  Give me a picture of your surroundings.-

Danilo looked around, hoping the few landmarks would be enough.  He saw the rising plateau of the Forbidden City in front of him, and in another direction he could just make out the top of Hali Tower. 

-Are you injured?-

-Yes.- 

-Hang on, I'm with Obi-wan, and will join you as fast as I can run.-

-Regis, the Sith have Catriona.- 

-We know,- came the grim reply.  -Qui-gon went to rescue her.-

It took several long moments, but Danilo eventually made out a distant figure picking its way among the fallen rocks of the rain-worn slope.  -I see you there among the stones.-

-What is wrong with your arms?  Are your hands--

-Never mind them.  My leg is more important.-

Regis sped up, running recklessly down the long trail of broken stone spillage from the ancient wall.  Danilo held his breath at the sight of it, but Regis had already reached the flat and was dodging bushes as he sped along.  The relief on Regis’ face changed at the sight of the scorched leather, and the spray of dried and blackened blood from the leg wound.

“Blaster shot,” said Danilo when his friend arrived.  Regis was immediately on his knees, parting the gash in Danilo’s trousers to study the wound. 

“Lord of Light!  This looks–,” Regis hesitated, “–not so bad?  Dani, was the fire aimed at some odd angle?  I can’t find the injury.  The skin is whole.”

“I certainly didn’t think so,” replied Danilo as he remembered the shock of the blast.  “It should be right in front.”

Regis cautiously felt around the leg with his fingers, smoothing over the skin, and this gave Danilo a twitchy feeling.  “I was also hurt in the right shoulder, though it bothers me little compared to earlier.”

Regis rose to inspect the shoulder.  “Your clothes are torn, but forgive me, bredu, are you sure you were injured?  I can’t find anything wrong.  Maybe I need to look more closely.”  He began to undo the thong-loops of Danilo’s tunic, and the shirt buttons underneath, and he pulled the material aside to free the shoulder.  “There’s nothing here, bredu.”

A little dazed, Danilo replied, “I don't understand.”  He sent Regis a brief, but concentrated burst of thought –Hali–Sith–droideka–underground–elevator–matrices–Catriona--Zandru–Dyan–running–blaster–Qui-gon--falling–lake–laran–

He sank back against his boulder, wincing because of his bound hands, and waited.

Regis stood frozen.  “That’s quite a lot, bredu,” he said.  “It appears that the laranof the lake healed you, or you willed it to heal you.  Either way, I'm glad.”  He started to reach towards Danilo’s face when his eyes widened, and his hands went still.  “Something iswrong, Dani.  I just felt something stir that should not be there.”  His eyes went to the small cloth bag that hung around Danilo’s neck.  “I need to examine your matrix.”

Danilo swallowed.  “Be careful,” he said, remembering the sickening pain of Tyranus’ touch. 

Regis’ hand was poised in front of the bag for a long moment as he attuned himself to the stone, and Danilo could feel the hand even with an inch of distance still between them.  A long minute later Regis took the bag in his hands and began to slide open the cords at the top.  Danilo tried not to suck in his breath, but he felt no pain as Regis nudged the silk wrapping aside and tipped the matrix out. 

As the matrix rested in Regis’ palm, both of them gasped.  A miniature image of Zandru was floating just above the stone, burning bright with alien laran.

“Your matrix is overshadowed,” said Regis tightly.   “Whoever he is, god or no, he must be very powerful.”  Danilo squeezed his eyes shut in dismay.  When he opened them, he was taken aback by the look on Regis’ face.  His friend's eyes were riveted, glaring down at the miniature figure with an expression of deep, feral rage.

“Bredu?” said Danilo cautiously. 

The tiny figure flared suddenly, then sank.  Danilo startled at a strange touch, and knew Regis had done something to the matrix.  It felt as if a cord was being drawn right through a hole in his skin, unpleasant and tickling at the same time.  The uncomfortable pullings and drawings continued, and Danilo realized they were coming from his power centers, as Regis dragged something out of each of them.  For a moment Danilo was lost in dizzy heat like a fever-dream, his stomach twisting with nausea, then his head cleared.  

When he looked at the matrix again, the figure was gone.  Regis, his calmness restored, was watching the stone closely.  “The matrix is clear.  I don’t think he can come back.” 

-Thank you.-

Regis didn’t reply.  His eyes were studying Danilo intently.

“Could you find a way of making these cuffs release?  I’m thoroughly sick of them by now.”

Regis, still holding the matrix, inspected the cuffs.  “You’re out of luck, bredu.  I have no idea what mechanism opens them and I don’t want to accidently trigger the stun control.  The Jedi should know how they operate.” 

Danilo raised his eyes skywards and made a deep, exasperated noise in his throat. 

-I suppose you’re right.  Do you remember where you left the Jedi in the city?  We cannot risk stumbling across these Sith again.-

There was no reply.

-Regis?- 

Regis was staring at him with an expression that caused a faint trickle of alarm to run through Danilo.  It was not quite the feral gleam Regis had worn earlier, yet it held its own hint of danger. 

-Regis?  What are you looking at?-

-You.-

-And?-

-Your shirt buttons are mostly undone and your hands are being held in an interesting position.-

-REGIS!  Will you return my matrix and help me find the Jedi?-

“All right,” said Regis aloud.  “I will return your matrix, but you’re going to have to delve for it, bredhyu.”

“Delve?  How can I possibly delve for it?  What do you–!”

Regis stepped back, grinned, and popped the matrix right into his mouth.  His tongue slid over it, and Danilo felt the wet sensation sink into his laran channels and pass all over his body. 

“Give it back!  How do you even know you can dothat safely!?!  It’s very dangerous to a matrix, and I know a dozen leroniwho’d tear your hair out for this!”

-I know because I’m a Hastur,- came the confident reply.  -You wish it back?  Delve for it.-

For a moment, Danilo was paralyzed, realizing that with cuffed hands, there was only one way to get that matrix out of Regis’ mouth.  “You INSANE HASTUR!  This is NOT THE TIME for this!” he raged.  He stopped, feeling that wet tongue pass again over his matrix, and gave another shudder.  The problem was, though strange and nerve-rattling, it didn’t exactly feel bad–

With a violent cry, Danilo launched himself at his friend.   “Open, open, open,” he commanded, his lips moving along Regis’.  He tried to part the other’s lips with his own, seeking any way in.

-Do you know,- sent Regis in a thoughtful way, -it crossed my mind not long ago that it was harder to get a kiss out of you than fight the Sith, and that maybe I would never get one?-

-I can feel you clenching your jaw.  Open up or else.-

The urgency of Danilo’s mouth moving against his made Regis project a mental smile towards him.  -Maybe if you used your tongue properly, bredhyu.-

Taking the hint, Danilo tried to bore in, but found locked teeth. 

-Do you know that matrices have an interesting taste?  Or at least yours does, like sweet  mountain herbs and leather--

-Open your mouth!  If only I had the Alton gift–

-Then your tongue would be halfway down my throat, and it would be so pleasant–

Regis’ hands slid down Danilo’s arms to the cuffed hands, and he laced their fingers together.  Danilo replied with a grip so hard that it was painful to both of them.

Danilo turned his face away. “I see this is not working,” he said aloud.

Regis tongued the matrix again, and Danilo gave a harsh, inward suck of breath, then licked a sore spot on his own lips.  It tasted like blood, and too late, he tasted Regis there, too. 

A plan occurred to him and he nipped along Regis’ neck, digging his teeth in just enough to fix the other’s mind, but not enough to hurt.  When Regis’ lips parted helplessly, Danilo struck.  His tongue sank in deeply, and he delved like a madman before Regis could recover, feeling around for that matrix.  At first, Regis fended him off with his own tongue.  Then he seemed to acquiesce, and let Danilo sink and probe. 

-Holy Bearer of Burdens, you haven’t swallowed it, have you?-

-You’re just not good at looking, bredhyu.  Is that deliberate?-

Danilo jerked his head back, and their mouths parted.  He gave a frantic cry of frustration. 

“My poor Dani.  Concentrate on thisa moment.”

Regis leaned into him, rocking, and for a second Danilo tried to shift away.  It was impossible to avoid the sensations.  He remembered the bodily shame taught by the cristoforos, and the humiliation of having his sexuality kindled by Dyan Ardais. /Not here, not in front of Regis, not here.  Not this feeling./

-Learn it.  Feel it.-

The simple motions Regis made were fast, and very good.  It wasn’t the first time Danilo had felt this, but it was the first time with someone he cared for.  He could not bury the feeling when it finally broke loose, writhing as Regis fought to keep him from hurting himself against his cuffs.  When the seizure passed, he tried to speak, but failed.  Not even a mental word escaped him.

“Regis?  Danilo?” a voice called.  It was Obi-wan.

“This is not over,” said Regis in a low voice.  He parted his lips and Danilo slid between them, touching everywhere delicately, deliberate slow motions of tongue caressing all hard and soft, tickling, stroking, and probing until he found the matrix hidden beneath Regis’ tongue.  The clasp of Regis’ lips refused to give it back so easily, and they breathed air-kisses, pulling and sucking on it until Danilo managed to slide it back into his own mouth.  Once there, he tucked the matrix defensively inside his cheek.

Regis let go of him, and turned away to face the approaching Obi-wan with a nonchalant expression.

-Bredhyu, could you button my shirt and tunic?  This is going to be embarrassing.-

-No, I want him to think the worst.  No one ever does that about me nearly as much as they should.-

-Regis, love, when I get these cuffs off, I’m throwing them at you.-

Danilo slid down off his boulder, his arms and hands almost crippled from cramp and strain, twisting down to bite into his travel leathers so he could tug them up.  He only received a mouthful of his own hair, and cursed.

“Dani?” Regis interrupted.

“What?” Danilo replied with some difficulty around the crystal.

“I can’t see a damned thing.”

When he straightened, neither could Danilo.  All around them was a swirl of formless grey that blotted out everything, even the sun.  Tendrils were reaching out towards them and snaking back. 

-It’s laran from Lake Hali,- Danilo said. -I can’t believe neither of us noticed it.-

-Well, we were rather distracted, bredyu.-

-Try to push it away with your mind.-

-I think I’m only drawing it towards me.-  Regis’ reply held a hint of nervousness.  -It’s creeping closer when I try to shove it back.  Do you think that--

“Regis?  Have you found Danilo?”

The voice was much closer.  A moment later Obi-wan stepped into view through the grey fog.  The raw laran seemed to dissipate as the Jedi approached. 

“What happened?  You gave me quite a turn.  I felt a huge spike in the Force, and all this energy,” Obi-wan gestured at the foggy laran, “was spinning around you like a huge tornado.  It built a column nearly to the height of the clouds.  I thought something had gotten you both.”

This remark probably could have been passed by if it hadn’t been for a very guilty-sounding chuckle from Regis, and Danilo’s flaming cheeks. 

Obi-wan paused at the sight of Danilo’s shirt and tunic.  “I was, um, looking him over for injuries,” Regis explained.  “Free him, will you?”  He waved the Jedi insouciantly over to his paxman.

A moment later a flustered Danilo was rubbing his wrists, and he quickly replaced his damp matrix back inside its bag.  Regis was eyeing the lake.

“I need to return immediately,” said Obi-wan.  “I took a chance when I left the shield, but I thought you were in danger.  You two promise to head straight to the nearest village.”

“Wait a minute,” Regis protested.

“Having you out of the way makes our work easier if we don't have to rescue you.  I'm heading back now.  Promise me.”

Regis sputtered.  They were interrupted as the sky lit up with a yellow flash. 

“What was that?” Danilo exclaimed.

“It looks like an energy discharge,” said Obi-wan.  “Nothing in the city works, so it--

The apprentice broke off.  He was gazing at the Forbidden City, and had turned very pale.

-oOo-