Hey everyone, sorry that I haven't been active lately. I was badly hurt and am just now well enough to type with some facility. I will be on more, especially as I continue to improve. BUT, for now I thought I'd post an interlude catching us up on some of my main characters
Note: this takes place after "Brothers CH.27 Traps:"
http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=36760.msg660780#msg660780********************************************************************************************************
Interlude-A Sliver of Hope“Jorya…I’m so sorry…” Even though her ceremonial mask hid her vestigial sockets, Berra’s face was drawn, worry and sorrow evident as she placed a tentative hand upon the Togruta’s shoulder.
“It’s not your fault, Berra…it’s no one’s fault…” Jorya’s eyes turned back to the diminutive woman lying in the shadowed darkness that had been her bed.
…Mother… Tears again ran unchecked down her orange cheeks as Jorya leaned closer to D’Aylanna as she cradled her adoptive mother’s prostrate body protectively. Even has the small Hapan woman’s chest rose and fell with regularity, nothing that anyone had done had been able to wake her from her coma.
“…Jorya…I was going to go get some food…and I wondered if you’d like for me to bring you any?” Edda’s rough voice, so incongruous with her beautiful if scarred face, came from beside Berra. Since arriving at the Templar’s Archives, Jorya and Edda had become fast friends. Her and Edda had been training with Master Heditt, Jorya clearly the more skilled. At least for now; Edda was absolutely committed to her training and if she was slow at learning something, she never once quit.
Jorya smiled. She was reminded of the times that she’d trained with Father, his patient if persistent methods always inspiring her to want to succeed…no,
surpass. Her lips curled into a deeper grin: the last time she’d trained with Father, she’d finally been able to overpower him. He’d told her it was inevitable—he always claimed he was “middling at best”—but Jorya had been shocked nevertheless.
…By the Maker I miss him… Reminding her that she was lonely…which reminded her again of her Mother…which jarringly brought her back to the here-and-now. Not even bothering to wipe the tears sliding down her face, she looked at her friend. “Thanks Edda. I’m not hungry. Actually, I think I’d like to be alone for awhile if you don’t mind.” She saw Berra and Edda share an exchanged glance at one another, virtually identical looks of understanding and worry fighting for dominance upon their faces.
“Of course.” Berra intoned, quickly followed by Edda’s raspy “Sure, Jorya.” After a moment, they both left the room. It was fairly small and cramped, filled with supplies and datanodes; it felt cavernous and hollow, the retreating footsteps and voices of her friends echoing between the old stone walls that loomed above her and D’Aylanna’s heads.
For long moments, she could do nothing but continue to quietly sob, tears falling upon her mother’s olive skin, her blue lips slightly opened as she breathed. But not once had her eyes moved, not even under their lids as when dreaming deeply. For all signs of vitality, D’Aylanna showed no signs of life…
Jorya’s thoughts wandered, thinking of better times like when her parents had formally adopted her, when she had played with Grandfather Kazic, when her father had draped the ceremonial cloak of the Vhal’Dan upon her shoulders, elevating her from teidowan, when Kage Lo had Knighted her, the solid Song-steel blade of the Mak’Tor touching her shoulders… Her red lips smiled wistfully. Ken teaching her how to “Thread the Needle” on her approach to M’Tzigon through the intricate system of moons that surrounded the alpine planet. Stril’s beautiful lavender skin as she spoke with him via holofeed, the bad connection doing nothing to diminish his handsome face…
…Her mother’s prone body as Berra came upon her in the Revenant pyramid, a pool of blood surrounding the fragile, small lifeless body… Jorya’s teeth gritted, trying to banish what the Miraluka Templar had told her but her own subconscious seemed to work counter to her desires as she suddenly found herself replaying some of the worst memories from her own experiences.
…Her father’s large barrel chest, heavy with scars as he fought for life, Jennira’s Song having torn through to his soul…Mellinchae behind her, the deadly hum of his lightsaber increasing, indicating a killing stroke as she helplessly expected death to take her…Black Armor looming enormous, lethal over her on the Star Destroyer Imperious…
Suddenly, she inhaled, Jorya’s head raising as her logical mind caught up with her memories.
…Jennira… When last she’d felt helpless and at a loss of what to do, she remembered the decision that she’d made, the actions that had helped her and her parents when they’d captured the Nightsister. She’d been comatose as well…and Jorya had Delved the Dark Singer for answers…and now as then—more, truth be told—Jorya was desperate…
…And for that, you were censured… Mercilessly, she crushed the thought. She’d since been Knighted as a full Koawan. And this was her
Mother she was talking about…
“Take what you want and pay for it.” Father’s words came back to her. Lips thin, her face fixed with a look of resolve, Jorya realized that she’d already made her decision as soon as she’d made the connection. Besides…like she said, she was desperate…
Placing the tips of her orange fingers upon either side of her mother’s dark face, Jorya slowly inhaled before steeling herself.
…For Mother…for Father…I’ll do anything… Without anymore hesitation, she wrapped herself fully in the Force, Delving deeply into D’Aylanna…
<<<<< >>>>>
Where before she’d had to navigate the roiling storm of Jennira’s unconsciousness, careful to lose herself in the chaotic tempest of the Nightsister’s mind, Jorya found herself in a very different setting, this one no less frightening or dangerous. More, she told herself, a deep-seated blade of fear piercing her gut as she became all the more aware of her surroundings.
She found herself in complete and utter blackness, a void without horizon or distinction. Even though she knew that she had no body here, no eyes to perceive, no orientation to direct her, she saw, felt…
bore…the insurmountable, unending blackness that threatened to overwhelm her even as it represented
nothing. Frantic, she searched through the void, going faster, faster through the blackness, a sense of motion doing nothing to alleviate the fact that before her was complete and unbroken nothingness…
…No...! She thought, desperation and misery tearing through her.
…There must be something…anything…! And she remembered what she’d used before. Need.
Yes, need. That had been key. Dangerous, Father had told her…but what else could she do?
Resolute, she thought—emanated—Need. If she’d had teeth here, her jaw would be aching from her determination.
…NEED…Suddenly, the void…changed. The blackness started to leech away. No, not leech…
bleed. Replacing it, the darkness began to slowly take on the deep hue of blood, thick, viscous. A pyramid appeared before her, the red stones, doors, hallways offering no barrier to her as she flowed forward.
…NEED…A large antechamber spread before her, a droning sound like some endless horde of insect came from all around her, punctuated by a rhythmic tripartite beating, like…like a heart pumping blood through an open wound…
…NEED…Within the chamber, upon the upper level with stairs leading to it on several sides there was a raised dais. From the center of the dais, an oddly shaped obelisk protruded from the center. Surrounding the obelisk, a pool of blood, congealed and dark, stained the floor, a small, body-shaped void immediately evident.
…Mother… Jorya knew it was where D’Aylanna had lain bleeding out before Teks had done…whatever it was that she’d done to heal her Mother.
…NEED…Jarringly, her perspective shifted, the obelisk large and central within her vision, the periphery blurry and unimportant. Scrutinizing the plinth, Jorya stared for what seemed like hours…and she saw…
Within the base of the stile, a black orb was affixed, glowing ominously, gloriously.
…What the hell…? Wondering the meaning of such, she involuntarily reached out, the essence of herself briefly touching the orb.
{{Within, there was screaming. At first Jorya thought it was a single, overpowering voice but after a moment realized there was in fact two, two distinct voices both yelling counter. Fear, pain, anger, frustration, betrayal…all washed over her. If she had ears here, she would have covered them with her hands…if she had hands here. Pure emotion inundated her, threatening to drown her, crush her, immolate her. But then, she…heard it.
Her Mother’s voice. Hers was one of the voices that she heard, one of the sources of the emotions she felt. Mother was here, alive!
Jorya tried to shout but her voice was a pale thing in comparison to those two keening wails. And try as she might, she could not make herself heard…
Suddenly, she felt a hand upon her shoulder, turning her around. …How…?!
Even terrified, she was shocked by the tactile contact that she felt. Focusing her sight, she looked upon a hooded figure. Somehow, she was able to make out details…
Despite a thick, white beard, the old man looked hardy and hale. Powerful. Implacable. Timeless. His eyes stared at her across the expanse of Time, his experience evident in the wisdom that radiated from his eyes. As well as his cruelty.
She knew that she had to get away, to escape. Need!
Nothing happened.
Panicked, she tried again and again. Need! NEED!!
She saw a slow smile spread on the old man’s face…right before he disappeared, along with everything: the shouting voices, the orb, the obelisk, the antechamber, the pyramid, the blood-red sea…}}Leaving only the void. If she had a heart here, it would be hammering in her chest…if she had a chest here. After many moments, Jorya reflected upon what had occurred…and the new questions that she had.
But first…
<<<<< >>>>>
Jorya’s eyes opened. Her mother’s body was still unmoving in her lap, her long arms wrapped protectively around D’Aylanna. Quickly, she checked her chronometer, remembering the results of last time where she’d been in the Delve for
seventeen hours. Blinking, she rubbed her eyes disbelieving.
Not even a minute had elapsed.
…What…the…hell…?Carefully disengaging her arms from her Mother, she rearranged the small Hapan woman’s body upon the bed before kissing her head gently and then backing out of the room. Mind racing, Jorya wondered what her experiences portended as she leaned upon the stone wall. But she felt a sliver of hope as well. Mother was alive, somewhere, somehow!
Running through the halls, Jorya went to find the tall Templar Master, both hope and trepidation rushing through her. She just hoped that Master Rakham would know what it meant…
…And who the old man might be.